Wednesday, November 25, 2015


Bump lies on the ground not wanting to get up. he knows he has to go on but doesn't know why. it's as if the bump on his large head made him think different. he's playing a game. but it isn't even his game. he wipes the drool which has crusted on the side of his eyes and covers his face with his oversize red tie.

Bump (softly): i can see things. before they happen. it's true. powers are real, people just don't take the time to cultivate them. too busy doing busywork. people are too quick to cynic about everything. i can see things. i wish i had become a prophet instead of a prophet of doom.

he turns to the side and a green bird is


below the treetops of the abandoned trail.

Bump (mouth full of both kinds of dust): i take comfort to know God has granted me another sight of nature after my horse left. the horse, him, he's his own man. there's another way to view the world: on the ground. my head is spinning but i see her clearly, she takes me out of the clouds of dust and into the clouds: the blonde woman. little cardinal, will you do me a kindness? perch on my extended finger like Snow White.

green bird: good sir, deep down i still think so, i am green.

Bump: i'm a good actor, had to be to survive, but i'm sick of playing to the cameras. i lost track of my masks so i don't know where base is.

green bird: God has a camera, too.

as the green bird fies up and down floaty to keep up with the president's equilibrium, Bump sees a red ball bouncing up and down.

Uvula still underwater has evolved her lungs into gills, or at least really super supreme iron lungs.

Uvula: sometimes evolution is a straight line, sometimes it's smashing different things together to form an unknown crooked combination. my water broke but i didn't feel it. this is gonna be a big baby. it's stomping inside me. it's shoving.

a bright star light emanates from her belly which illuminates all the dark corners of the one ocean. the only darkness comes from the black ink poring over her hole into the depth as her body begins to expand like a rubber band. Uvula screams silently. underwater is on fire.

Hilary: you hear that?

the Pope: yes. an impressive young lady in charge of her tribe. met her once on a mission. Sunsong i believe.

Hilary: no, an impressive young woman confused but resilient. a mermaid with her two feet on the ground. about to give birth unlike anything previous. where there is nothing, something new fills the void. you know what we must do. it's more than duty, it's brotherhood.

Hilary puts the rest of the Stones granola clusters into her yogurt and slurps it down hurriedly shoveling with a spork. the Pope finishes her dutch apple pie, crumbly with golden brown sugar.

the Pope: okay, shall we carpool until we reach a fork in the road? i've got my helicarrier parked out front.

Hilary: we shall be guided by a city of lights. and my jet is bigger than yours.

Hilary arrives and jumps in through the port without looking. Uvula is calmly treading water underwater, her outbursts have become more measured and experienced. Hilary dons a nurse's cap and dives down to reach her. she is wet. she jettisons herself. she touches Uvula's shoulder. it's hard to see through all the shine but Uvula spots the watery image of the vice president with her arm tightly around Bil. next to her is the Pope collaring Master Jesus to give him a french kiss. and Sunsong's hole.

the Pope (at the village): so what was it like?

Sunsong: a tragedy too sudden to process. before we knew it, fire. we're used to fire around here but this was not natural. when the bombs had stopped, our village was razed. we would have to rebuild again. bones heal but not hearts. Emblem was in our bombass hut recovering from his many fishing expeditions to other villages. my beloved Emblem, in so short a time he went from strongman to second banana. but he was never useless to me, he was my everything. i still remember that reverbing voice, the only cold for miles:

Codrus: where's your boyfriend?

i was shocked when i saw my husband's killer was a woman. that tricked me. but the joke was on them. he wasn't the head of the snake, i was. i was stunned but just stunned. i picked myself up and carried my long heavy grand staff ahead cos i knew it contained the toothpicks and shivs and woodwinds of my people and my generations. i lunged it at my fellow sister cos this isn't the time for philosophy. they disappeared before the caber landed. they were like a dream. too bad their damage was not.

the Pope: you poor thing. i am hear to lend a breast. i believe in random. there is no reason why you were spared and Emblem was not but there is rhyme. within the randomness you are in charge of your fate. combat the random with your own random. you weren't planning on coming with me to see a once-in-an-ever birth in the special sea, were you? see? our sisters are doing amazing things this age. take my hand, we all need leaders.

remember that bear who tried to maul Uvula from before? well that same bear is being transported by the green bird and dropped into the water. the bear glides swiftly through and is nimble for his appearance---like a blue whale---negotiating the inner waves and reaching Uvula's bellybutton. the water bear licks the precious womb and Uvula gently pets the bears' fuzzy ears. she closes her eyes but not for too long.

the birth

so graceful and quiet in the blue


and everyone gathered around agree they have witnessed the most beautiful creature in creation

a family of homesteaders who live in the utmost hinterlands of the world are gearing up. there's not much plastic in these parts. they gather their stockpile of guns and blades. they don their weavehats and spit out their wheatstalks. they rub their blue necks proud of their fights. they begin to march.

Codrus is watching a movie.

Codrus: don't need another video game........enough of the sponsored content, get back to the show......i don't care if it has God mode, i already do God's like those NFLers who play Madden in their spare time...

Bump and Hilary are locked arm-in-arm kicking their heels on stage finishing up the One finale from A Chorus Line while in a chorus line. Codrus chuckles lazily in his uncomfortable movietheatre seat. a shadow blocks the screen, a domineering large looming spot of black making the creature seem bigger than he is as he spots his prey while in front of the projector. it's the green bird, he transforms into Cotard. Cotard jumps from the balcony of the theatre his words lost in green smoke and plunges a blade into Codrus's heart. Codrus looks down at his wound but he had prepared his lines beforehand so he takes extra long to examine the weapon.

Codrus: ah, the reverse blade. the hilt is the sharp metal part and the blade itself is made of Stones. Imzhan, huh? we're fighting right now but all friends go through rough patches. you interrupted my inner monologue, i was just about to say i have been training. oh well. it's probably good enough. you guys don't see what i do when i'm offscreen.

JUST THEN a man enters the theatre. the homesteading family attacks Codrus. the man scratches his face and the woman sticks a pitchfork in his eye.

Codrus: keep it, i've got another one on my forehead.

the woman: don't mess with homesteaders! we have to be independent to survive. freedom!

Cotard makes sure in all the commotion to hold onto the reverse-blade's handle with his life. his fingers start to drip blood.

the little brother flips the little sister into Codrus's stomach, she strikes the belly with her penny loafers. the penny in her shoe slot shines like a newly dying star. Codrus loses one pack in his abs. the boy finishes the job with his land claimer's cudgel bonk on Codrus's noggin. Codrus's ushanka is torn and he is deepened into his seat.

Codrus: you people are crazy. i don't know who's fighting whom anymore. the worst thing to happen to numbers was fractions. you will never see the big picture without a telescope. you don't see what i'm doing for you, i know how underappreciated Jesus feels. i won't be another one on this cold rock to believe under gravity. i will create my own horizon. in space. everything ends in space. nothing less than limitless. i'm getting the fuck outta here. i'm not crazy, i want to die. i don't want to live forever, i want to die knowing the truth. use all the BS the world has ever produced to solve the energy crisis. i want the truth to my face to be bald and shiny and not hiding its face under a beard.

Codrus points to the heavens.


a huge egg-and-yolk-colored energy ball carries Codrus and a dangling Cotard up into the sky. this ball is way too big for two people. it nearly cuts the helicarrier off as it ascends.

the Pope: get over here! what are you doing?

Codrus: transporting culture. a culture of winning. you people are doomed to contract. i get it, they're trees, they're great, but i'm in the mood for space trees.

higher and higher the duo get, blocking the sun, then becoming indistinguishable from the sun. as the rainbow mesosphere arches in front of them and breaches in back the two hulks know deep down their juice will have to sluice, the duet will have to duel.

unless they can create more time

Tuesday, November 24, 2015


1. which one do you want more of in bed: romance, experimentation, or foreplay? fiveplay. sixplay is fiveplay with butter.

2. what are three mistakes someone could make with you that would necessitate you turning down their plea for a second date? i am very forgiving. who am i to judge? i love everyone. i love the world. that being said: margarine, if they don't use Axe bodyspray, and you have to love animals more than people, that's a must.

3. tell us something sexual you do not do anymore? why? masturbation. too messy. we'll see how it goes tonight...

4. during sex, would you rather have a lover pull your hair, scratch your back, or spank your ass? pull my long strong luxurious shiny hefty healthy strands of raven-black hair. Trent Reznor hair. *sigh*, a boy can dream. i already bought a backscratcher. i spank my own ass everyday doing this thing called life.

5. foreplay: is there such a thing as too much? everything is foreplay, there is no sex. everything you do is but the prelude to the next thing. that book you're reading now? that will lead to something later...

bonus: what is the best thing about you? i'm not awesome now, but i'm gonna reincarnate into an awesome frog. give me a kiss then and i'll tell you tales.



Friday, November 20, 2015



* Phil: no. no.
Phil turns to the camera.
Phil: parents, teach your children well. don't let them grow up to be assholes.
Peter Pan: that's not cool, Phil, i'm an orphan.

* Peter Pan punches Phil in the gut.
Phil: that's where Captain Hook got me with his hook. crushed my ribcage. still have trouble breathing. join the Lost Boys they said. you were standing right there. why didn't you help?
Peter Pan: Captain Hook is family. every family has that weird uncle.
Phil: i've never once in my entire life felt the urge to shout out motherfucker to someone's face in public until now...

* Peter Pan: Joanne? is that you? you don't look a day over 70.
Joanne: and to think i had a crush on you in 3rd grade. i thought it was cute when you came back from Cub Scouts and pulled my pigtails. i hope you eat bacon and get cancer.

* Peter Pan grabs the shrimp from Tinkerbell.
Peter Pan: don't worry, folks, it's a shrimp orange juice.

* Peter Pan: hey Tink, lay off the chocolate fountain, you're fat.
Tinkerbell: i hope the peanut butter gets stuck on the roof of your mouth................sorry, folks, i tried, but i'm still a Disney character.

* Peter Pan (singing): you make me feel so young...
Phil, Joanne, and Tinkerbell all clap and cheer uproariously.
Phil, Joanne, and Tinkerbell: ya got pipes, kid! bravo! bravo! we take it all back! we knew gingers had souls!

* a wampa bursts out of the Geico ice statue and flings Peter Pan all the way to the set of Peter Pan Live.
Christopher Walken: i'm not drunk. i'm not high. i'm Captain Hook.
Peter Pan: this is the one thing in the entire world that scares me.
the wampa holds up a sign that says December 18th. the wampa and Tinkerbell later marry.


happy weekend

Wednesday, November 18, 2015


Mickey Bump is sitting in the NY office. he takes a pause from phone interviews to pick his nose and eat it.

Bump: gold is gold.

*ring ring*

Bump: hello?

Codrus: so we cool again?

Bump: yes, boss.

Hilary knocks and lets herself in the ajar door. Larry follows. Cardozo flies in last.

Hilary: congratulations, Mr. president! loved your first address to the nation by phone. yeah, you're right, it's gonna be okay. it was a hard-fought campaign. you got me with that rabbit punch

Bump: all's fair in war. politics is the animal kingdom.

Cardozo: sir you make me in charge of Sea World and my loyalty won't be swayed by that red hood no matter how good the ride. read my beak, no new taxes. that park will not be a burden in the wallet cos i plan on disbanding it and freeing the whales.

Bump scratches a match on his beard made scrabble by continued Stones use. he lights his cuban and puffs hard through his nose which is blocked by his two fingers hooking his nostrils.

Bump: for the best. all whales vote republican, right? it's a known oceanic bloc.

Larry: the House is still white, won't be completely gold until it gets razed and built back up with Stones. hey it'd be harder in copper. shall i call the Brits?

Hilary: i got this.

Bump slides open his desk to reveal a piping hot tray of plain red Starbucks cups of hot peppermint mocha.

Bump: don't worry, no more fucking soda cans. don't worry, it's actual fluid, i know you're not a strongman like me. can't take swallowing beans. remember, the zarf is not edible. let's strategize. i love this time of day, i can play Wolf, we only need one estate. everyone whose name starts with an L *puts up the L Loser sign on his big forehead* out of the situation room. okay, whatcha we got?

Hilary: the monk's forces are gathering steam, mostly when the days inexplicably go to 130 degrees. i know it's not global warming but it must be something. his army increased drastically in a couple of weeks.

Cardozo: that's what happens when the entire animal kingdom is your army. no need to bring back the draft.

Bump: hey Pantsuit Paula, did you slip into something more comfortable when you went to warn Santa?

Hilary: i'd prefer it if you call me veep. the North Pole is deceptively fortified, the big man hasn't done a lot of walls or anything cos he only works once a year so money is thin. he's relied on the whiteout effect of the constant blizzards to keep enemies at bay, but this enemy is different. the elves vowed to me they'd give their lives and bodies for the cause. candy canes can be whittled into shivs in an emergency. Rudolph says his red light is a laser that can be fired but only once and the user loses his life in the process so he'll make it count. Mrs. Claus will stay in the underground bunker like she usually does during peacetime, out of sight. soft targets like the gingerbread houses no one cares about, they'll get eaten either way.

Bump: i swear if they pull one hair on that beard to prove if he's real i'll bomb the shit outta them.

Larry peers though the ajar door.

Larry: this is fuck. i wish i never agreed to do this. i'm moving my head back and forth side to side up and down but don't see the cameras. where are they? hidden? found footage? i see a bit of dust coming from the background picture of the White House lawn. i.....can.....go through? and i'm on the White House lawn, the actual one, i stoop down and feel the grass, it's wet and glistening on my cramped fingers. the White House is on my back. the laughs should be intermittent, the silence of the audience should be apparent, where's the bump into commercial? i haven't seen Bump flub a line yet, that's not like him.

the camera pans in past Larry on the lawn close up to the White House window and peers into it. Bump is on top of the table gleefully waving the flag back and forth, it sways gracefully despite the weight of the gold pole. the red flag with the outline of the Christmas tree and the bright star on top colored in all yellow and IBTSOT on top. the camera pans back out past the lawn to the black iron gate adorned with  victory posters with Bump's runon face in the middle and IGBO below smelling of fresh ink. there is not a sound on the street.


Binny: i can't pull it up! the little mini keyboard comes up but then it gets stuck!

Quinny: just don't panic. or do. nothing will help. remember, Shonda Rhimes runs her entire television empire from an ipad mini.

two large burly manhands grip the sisters' neckbacks and quietly relieve the tensive nerves flaring there. it's Yayray.

Binny: baby Ray. kiss. i'm happy to see you but not on the side where we can't do any good.

Quinny: Ray baby. kiss. we are so sorry for everything. can you help us tho?

Yayray: oh this is the side you can help the most. it's alright, i can still be rebellious over here. no need to apologize, except when you do, when you do need to it's vitally important to apologize sincerely, it's the only way to move forward. as i always used to say, auntie, hold out your palm for a present.

Quinny: you never used to say that. not to me.

Yayray: oh, yeah, just to my friends.

Yayray transforms into one tiny matchstick, hits the acute angle intersection of the life- and love-lines on Quinny's palm and into her pocket.

Yayray transforms into a life-size matchstick and falls out of the pocket. he looks directly into the camera.

Yayray: hold up, one more thing, been wanting to get this off my chest all post-death: FUCK YOU, REDDIT!!!

Yayray turns into a line of unstable gleaming fire.


Imzhan and Cotard are side by side flying in the sky holding onto the silver bar of Imzhan's hang glider. the winds splash their faces and sweep their thick hairs and mustaches and beards of rolls. well Imzhan's hair anyway.

Cotard: woo! thanks for the save, man.

Imzhan: just happened to be in the air area. airea. hey things are starting to cascade, they're happening faster than we can plan for them. that's why we need a plan. we have to turn to the end of the book to look for clues. you have to be ready with the best weapon from now. forget the wood sword. not even the white sword which works on most everything in this world will work. go straight to the magical sword. what sort of weapon are you using? you have it backwards. this world is backwards so it needs a backwards solution. i'll show you when we get back to the base. take it from a hanglider. after my nap. you drive.

Imzhan lets go of one arm to give Cotard a salute from his forehead and almost slips off. Cotard isn't expecting any of this and frenzily struggles to right the air ship.


Wolf is on instagram and liking with a quickness. he likes any pic that has any sort of reference, mention, or picture of the famous symbol that popped up in the wake of the tragedy.

Baleen (DM): what's up, fam? wanna play? i need a diversion.

Wolf: wow my face is all over the place! must have gotten 200 new followers, didn't know these people existed, but now that i peruse their accounts, i'm liking their feeds. hey dude, i think the internet is evil. none of this would have happened without the internet.

Baleen: oh you're back to that again. okay. but how about next week?

Wolf: video games, too. i can't in good conscience play playstation ever again, yamean? messages these days are sent too quickly, they spread before you have a chance to digest them.

Baleen: oh. playstation's my favorite you know. anyway, i'm still feeling depressed over the incident. my incident. but the incident, the one over there, does put things in perspective, it gets you out of your petty problems, the little things which are always burrowing into your skin. bye fam. maybe next week we can all get back to normal.


Codrus has arrived in Rio spreading his terror with a quickness. his accuracy is intermittent and devillike. his attacks so swift there is no time for mercy. his cause is his cause alone. he uses poor Kenyatta to do his demented work. when he raises his arm, Kenyatta raises her tardigrade-controlled arm to shoot or bomb. this keeps his mind clean.

a faltering announcement from a robotic unhuman voice comes from the loudpeakers of the stadium: "stay in your seats. terrorists have infiltrated the stadium. or get up and fight. it's the only way to stop it." an air of somber scare douses the wet field. those who still have their senses clutch each other in heavy hugs through their mittens over their seats. those drugged get up glazily and walk out over flags on the ground with a slow steady slumber.

Codrus reaches the house. it was a trick. a trick he saw through. they're all there: Kenyatta's beloved Bridge and all the rest. sometimes you can be too clever. Codrus sends a weeping Kenyatta in to sweep the place. he puts his finger in his sucking mouth and it's as if he's pushing a button on his uvula. shooting. no countershooting. bomb. the ensuing smoke creates a platform for a reflective screen off which Codrus watches like a movie


a horse gallops out of the burnt edifice. the horse from before in Brazil, remember? the one who became a human horse? Kenyatta emerges from the smoke mascara permanently stained with her damp dank tears. she can't control herself but she wills a stutteringly-sung IL PAGLIACCO out of her crooked mouth.

Codrus: *long big guttural sigh* i'm so fucking tired. belief is dangerous. truth wins out. the one truth. the only truth. the real truth. it will come out soon enough. i can't believe those that sacrifice for air. a couple more of these things and there won't be a need for these things anymore.

Codrus puts his finger in his mouth and closes his wet gaping maw onto it. he pushes the button of his uvula again. dial tone.

Codrus: for the ring ring.

Bump: hello?

Codrus: better get over here, your horse is running away.


Bump: oh thank you, boss, you know me better than i know myself! that's all i've ever wanted! every little boy dreams of getting a pony. i'll be right over.

Codrus: nevermind. you are my middle man but i keep you on to entertain me in dark times. i don't cut you a check. it's already on the White House lawn, see it?

Bump: thanks, boss. lady, ready Hoof Force One.

Bump rides away on the horse now branded with a huge Bumphead on its side. the horse bristles in pain and snorts in Bump's fat head in rage. Hilary quickly convenes the real boardroom in Bump's absence.

Hilary: Madam Pope? get your pert ass over here. we need to wage the real war.

the Pope: okay, madam President, or should i say Dick. but i'd rather have peace than piecemeal.

Hilary: eat on the way, you only eat those silly crackers anyway.

the Pope arrives at the Gold House incognito and the two powerful women hug. with a heavy sigh the Pope takes out some yellow powder from her traveling censer and places a big ball of mud of it on her tongue. she swallows. she places more on her tongue.

Hilary: snowball it into my mouth.

the two women lie together on the couch next to the table and hit each other's uvulas with their respected tongues. power grows. the horse bucks Bump off and onto the hard dusty trail though Bump maintains his gleeful smile. before Bump has a chance to realize this isn't a natural occurrence in nature, the horse gets on its hind legs, walks deliberately like a human, takes one upright stance back and uncorks a corker of an uppercut under Bump's chin, leaving a permanent cloven mark there.

Hilary and the Pope highfive.

Monday, November 16, 2015



1. tell us something you like but you hide it from your friends who would just tease you mercilessly for it: i have retained a bit of my humanity. i'm not all-android like my friends. i told my best friend about my condition in confidence and this was his response:


2. tell us something you hide from your parents cos they would disown you: i am part-human. the cyberbrain didn't take fully. i've tried to tell my folks but they don't quite get emotions. whenever i'm happy they just see it as me leaking fluid from my eyes or my backside or my middle section.

3. what do you hide from your kids cos they shouldn't be snooping anyway? i will never lie to my kids, there will be no secrets. i want them to tell me anything however embarrassing. they can go to the concert but i'll be in the back with my Taylor Swift leather jacket on. i know it's only rock and roll but i like it.

4. when was the last time you hid from something/one? the entirety of my last past life. that is why i find myself reincarnated into the predicament i am in now. if i do well this time around, i hope to become a ninja in my next life. i was a turtle in my previous life.

5. what things/objects do you hide regularly? my pens cos my cats play with them and i can't get any work done. that is why i haven't responded to your text yet. i'm getting to it, i want to take my time and answer you with a cared, well-thought-out perfumed letter...

bonus: what did someone hide and you found? i was gonna use my usual Old Spice as the perfume for your letter but someone hid it and urged me to try another Old Spice product...


Friday, November 13, 2015



* sponsor: Mr. McConaughey, don't you worry, we'll have a light trained on you at all times to keep you safe when you play your bongos buck naked in the woods.

* friend: i fly whenever i read a book.
Matt: takes you places, huh?
friend: yes. also i use my baggie of drugs as the bookmark.

* Matt checks the back camera on his Lincoln MKX.
Matt: well bust my britches and call me skeeter, THERE's my shirt! been wondering where i put that thing.

* friend: please stand still for eye scan. Matt, you passed but your eyes are a little red.
Matt: late night reading scripts.

* Matt: finger exercises...

* friend: i collect's not what you think...

* Matt: that's a beautiful little black dress you got on there.
woman: four friends up for anything meeting at the crossroads.
friend: so we won't be lonely.
other friend: the night, the time of danger, risk, and regret.
Matt: i know, they FINALLY put that four-way stop in there. it's nice and safe now.

* friend: my apologies...
Matt: dude, you ruined the non-verbal-communication jazzy mood.

* friend: full house, queens over jacks, read 'em and weep.
Matt: Nick at Nite is banned at our house. i got six aces of spades. i win this mansion. i'm gonna rename it the McMansion.
friend: alright.
Matt: you making fun of me?
friend: no, i only said it once, not three times.

* sponsor: Mr. McConaughey, we spotted you laughing in our car, is everything alright?
Matt: you making fun of me? i'm alright, just happy.


happy weekend

Wednesday, November 11, 2015


Mickey Bump: it's not Andrew Luck's fault, he needs a better O line. it is Andrew Luck's fault, he's a turnover machine. the truth depends on if you like Andrew Luck or not. it's always been this way in human history, my friends. sure we should follow celebrity opinions cos they're codified and presented in shiny bodies. sure, Demi, quash the cup controversy by having it just be winter. but when does a fir tree become a Christmas tree? when the first candy cane is hung on it? or when the star is atop? symbols: codifications presented to make our lives easier to follow. i'm chewing my peppermint mocha beans out of a red solo cup right now, folks, i do it to relive my youth which is all everyone does. instead of going to dorm parties i worked for my father on an allowance of one bitcoin, he said it'd be worth something someday. Codrus says money is worthless, always has been, it's a cosmic joke we play on ourselves, but what does he know? i don't work for nobody, folks, i'm just me, independent contractor. what is worth today? who is worthy? where has it been? has it changed over the eons? a war is being fought right now in your name, when did you agree to sign away your name? i'm big on contracts, pens or it didn't happen. is this to protect you or protect the Codrus legacy? who made him in charge anyway? i don't see his name on the ballot. in the words of my friend Wolf, what the fuck is going on? this has been a crazy campaign, folks. Hilary went round-for-round with Larry and scored a surprise KO. like they actually had a boxing match. televised. yuge ratings. you Dems sure do things differently. people's nonsense rantings always seem to involve conflict, huh? fighting. war, that is what it's good for. killing babies, kids being kids, the belt, triangular granaries for supplies and foodstuffs that fueled our ancient ancestor soldiers during their fight against the aliens. we must end the cycle, we must turn the cycle into a square as beautifully symmetrical as a square root, as square as my head. we must get back to symmetry and dynamism and community, folks, and there's nothing more all three of these things than the game of handball i played as a youth. i learned money wasn't everything, a person was, a woman whose striped feet only i saw and my first spaldeen in her soft hands. do you know why i do this? to hold that ball again. to see her again.


Binny is quite exhausted from everything and collapses onto the cold marble of the Store's floor. she pushes her hands onto the ground in despair sweeping all around the area and cries out.

Binny: my baby! Ray Ray! this is where he died! he was just another kid in an afterschool job, it would never be as easy again as it was here for him. here he balled as any young man do, puffing himself up with rolled papers for the ladies as he stocked bread and toasters in his greasy white overalls. talkin' bout cars and music and movies he had no idea of. each boy needs space to be dumb. oh the scourge of drugs.

Quinny: but there's hope.

Kiss: there isn't but i love you guys.

Quinny: this is the only image we need to see. clear your cache. it's the one of us and mom sittin by the dock of the bay sippin' Hires. girls. our innocence shines through the gloss of the pic. and the tablet glass. mom wears a scarf over her head for dress not cos she's sick. we will always think of our mother and her strength will be our strength. with her we can overcome all evil. think positive thoughts, think of the churros.

Binny: that's right, the churros. i walk over to where the bakery is, i look inside the glass to see the freshly-made churros wrapped in hot steam. i taste the wafting cinnamon. i do my good deed of the day, i go over to that nice plump man of a baker in his white stovepipe hat that stretches up high high high beyond sight and declare my love for his churros which is a sugary substitute for my desire to connect to humanity again.

Codrus: lovely woman. and lovely man. i had a chance to meet them both. except you never quite make it to the eyelevel of the display to see if the new churros have come in yet. no churros, no talk, no talk, no walk, no forward progression. have you noticed? it's hard to really notice. you lost. the presence of your dead mother was not enough to shield you from my immense backlog of power. it was quite easy, you were already weakened by tragedy. i had to use a bullet btw, terrible greasy things, had to restrain Yayray's limbs and eyesight, he was moving around too much, that was one hulk of a growing boy you had there when i met him, he would have smashed me for sure, he was becoming too insane with the Stones, his power would have ceded mine, his mind was sharp as a butcher knife, though, he saw everything that happened to him in that growing mind of his.

Binny: devil. i spit Niagara on you.

Kiss: i am so sorry, i tried to stop him. but i am being protected by someone around here.

Codrus: nine lives, i feline feel you, cat. feelines. can't you see what's going on here? you feel your sister prop you up and the two of you walk toward the donut counter and to the man talking with the woman that isn't you. your compliment would have completed your circle. instead it's a vicious cycling back to your previous spot and trying to walk again. a piece of tape eternally caught on rewind. you'll never know if there're churros there or simply glazed.

Quinny: no, it can't be. i'll check my phone, that'll say if the churros have come in, there's an app for that.

Codrus: it is your worst nightmare, the failure of technology. you try to push the button to get to the page, the info that will save the day, but the page never quite loads, it almost does, it comes so tantalizingly close, but the blue line never quite makes it to the other side.

Quinny: my god that's annoying. if i hadn't quit earlier i'd be crazy now.

Codrus: you think why does this happen only to me. do others' phones with the right cloud work efficiently? you start to think the tech hates you alone. how can the tech know who you are? any finger of any skin color will work, even a ginger finger. maybe if you push your finger harder the screen will flash brighter and sooner. but it does, it is, the tech is deliberately targeting you and deciding not to work. it's alive, the robots have won, you have built your own destruction. the tech will decide when to work and when it benefits it to load the page and all of its annoying ads and sidelinks. it was easy to defeat you two, i simply slid my finger along your backbones till i reached the docks of your butts and you were gone. and you guys will forever be gone in a bad repeat episode of your family drama. can you tell i watched Eternal Sunshine for the first time last night? hipster heretic i am. designing hells is hard work, think i'll sate myself on a confection over there. which one tho?

Codrus smiles plainly under his scuffed-up tricorne hat.


Cotard is motorboating. he turns the key on the speedboat motor but instead a light comes out. it's a projection of Manny.

Manny: Monk, i am not your father, you are my father. get it?

Cotard: i understand. i'm understanding.


Uvula is still underwater. her glowing belly lights up the deep. she breathes with the help of fish placing an astronaut helmet over her head Sandy Cheeks-style. it grazes her cheek. Atalan nudges her .

Atalan: it's coming. another bomb-laden hurricane, the drones are trying to set it up, frame it. i got this. see what happens when you talk to your soldiers, when you see it from their perspective, when you socialize?

Uvula: socialism works.

Atalan: yep. you do you. i do me. meet the right people, make the right friends, get the wood or the mirroring shield. protect out of forgiveness not force. dalliance not duty. excitement not extermination. conviction not conscription.

Atalan shoots his cute vaquita body out of the water, transforms into a shark on steroids, and twists into the battalion of shooting drones, destroying them in one fell falcon swoop. Uvula lifts six selfie sticks with phones out of the water three on each arm like a circus platespinner, she continues to send out daily pokes and get daily messages from first-timers and veterans alike wanting to talk about their day.


Bump: it started in third grade, the third year is always the best year. the monitor saw i was alone and she walked over to me clear across from the other side of the playground to give me my first and only red high-bounce ball. i cherished that toy, cherish, it was all i needed, i don't need nintendo. i practiced by myself after the bell rung each day waiting for someone to do me a solid and pick me up. hours and hours of alone time, just me and my techniques sharpening. the other kids shunned me, called me fat, they couldn't call me poor. that ball was my Wilson the volleyball. that woman was my only kindness. my friends were my serve and my competitiveness at recess. i was the wallball wizard. my currency was my ability to slaughter my enemies on the handball wall. i whipped their butts in Butts Up. all i had were my fists for my linedrive underhanded skimming shots---forget pants and cars, those were the real lowriders---and my invisible satchel of black magic. when handball fell out of fashion replaced with passing notes of doodles of bushy vaginas, i was replaced with the captain of the carpet hockey team. i lost my ball on the captain's roof and was too scared to ring the doorbell. i fell out of favor and went back to being a cipher but i drew a line through that c and then an s and i made you love me again for my money. my motivation to make more and more money was finding the means to find my ball again. all i want is my ball! and her............................that's why i'm doing this, he's making me do this...........

Bump and Larry are shackled with eight chains across both of them and hung upside down naked from two points high up on the ceiling of the auditorium. this is the first presidential debate. tons of drones are hovering over both candidates, scanning them with a green hologram for foreign objects, foreign agents, foreign tardigrades, medical and financial records and sealed divorces and any receipts for viagra. Larry's tongue is stuck out balancing a stack of eight pennies. Codrus appears on all the flying drone screens fly-eye style.

Codrus: better than moderators, right folks? humans are flawed, tech never. we'll get the truth out of these candidates using airport security. they can't hide their dirty big secrets from the populace. rest assured, folks, take some more Stones, it's a sleep aid.

there is a definite turn in the audience. they had been treating Bump as a joke but they saw themselves in his childhood plight and the general loss of innocence in the world. stories are powerful codifiers. from then on when they thought of Bump they would think of a scared little boy bouncing a ball vs. the world. they begin to slowclap and spread the yellow haze all around the arena area.

JUST THEN Cotard's speedboat, which had hit a rock and been flying in a curve on a collision course with the arena's roof, in fact collides and punctures a huge gash in the roof, sliding the two candidates out of their chains and blowing up the screens, letting all the air out of the room. no more tv broadcast but the crowd all take out their camera phones. this event creates a lightning bolt that carries on a shockwave over to a wood box underneath Codrus's desk in his NYC office, a box not quite a crate whose


it crunches open and out bounces a red schoolyard ball. Bump senses this, he has a pre-drug spidey sense when it comes to his ball. he silently beckons the ball over with his mind. the ball bounces out of the apartment window and bounces its way clear across the other side of the country to the debate auditorium and into Bump's hands. Bump screams with pleasure at the location. Bump starts licking the ball and soon the ball's red skin turns pink. he shakes the Stones-coated dandruff from his hair onto the ball and soon a hologram projects from it, a vision of the woman.

Bump: so beautiful. i can see your face now. your blonde hairs sticking out of your blue hood. i missed you terribly. you are all i want. i'll give up all my money, my lucre for another lesson, all my millions, all my rocks.

"FOR THE LOVE OF A WOMAN!" the crowd chants. this especially goes over well with women voters. and men voters.

Codrus: not so fast. i challenge you to a duel, or a uh handball match. i'm the best at everything.

Bump: big mistake, boss, you picked the one thing i'm better at than you.

Codrus: we shall see.

the combatants use a makeshift court, the new wall that's been left exposed from the crash. Bump starts with a strong waterfall serve, Codrus counters by running underneath it for the rainbow, Bump backs up and sets up for a nice lilypad lowrider that ricochets off to the very corner of the last frame of the court, Codrus shoots the same, Bump then quickly chains the ball not letting it bounce before contact but Codrus maintains the chain and delivers a nice hit to the corner causing Bump to scramble, Bump makes it in time but only has time to wave his hand under the ball

Bump: black magic! i need more of this.

Codrus dives on his back for the ball and just barely manages to wave his fingers and lift the ball up enough that it bounces and before doublebouncing hits the very center corner edge of the wall. legal play continues. Bump races to the spot, cocks back his fist, and punches the ball through hard for a no-bounce linedrive american which hits the bricks in the center of the wall and straight back to Codrus's rubbery face. BUMP WINS!

Bump: of course it's the american that wins it.

the video goes viral and views equals votes.

Bump consoles the woman and begins to think real hard. his aura is becoming manifest and the woman begins to materialize from her holocoma. Codrus's face crumbles, his bicorne hat is pristine, Codrus raises the bruised fingers of his left hand trying to make a fist and the image of the woman doesn't just disappear, it statically dissolves with a thudding dead spark.

Bump: mom!

Monday, November 9, 2015


1. what brings you here to TMIT? that gorgeous white couch above, that thing is a masterpiece of tablature wood and spring-mounted action. and the redwood finish in the background completes the grand, elegant place to lie and be comfortable. my life is on the couch, whether i'm sleeping, sexting, sexing, therapying, or painting my grandfather on a ceiling.

2. have you played TMIT before? how often do you play? i don't remember, i was a bird then. it's the only thing i do religiously...

3. what's your problem? i don't have enough money for the full hour. how about i tell you my embarrassing secret, you tell me "don't do that anymore", and i'll buy you a drink.

4. how does playing TMIT make you feel? inspired, included, inclusive, immaculate, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

5. does TMIT help get you ideas for writing? yes, sincerely. i marvel at how connected all of my writing ideas are when it comes to TMIT flowing into my soap opera flowing into my instagram stories. it's all one big beautiful circle, an energy ring of infinite speed, Heaven, The Flash DC Comics concept of the Speed Force.

6. is playing TMIT therapy for you? all writing is free therapy which is better than paid therapy cos you don't have to get out of bed. i can do my speed in my pajamas in peace.

bonus: if you could wave a magic wand, what positive changes would you make happen in your life? do you need the wand to make the changes? without my wand i can't get water. they say you need water to live. though i've noticed i'm more artistic when i don't bathe...


Friday, November 6, 2015



* fight instructor: see how i straight-blasted Ron? thanks, dad.
Ron: i'd do anything for you, son. i'll be in the hospital. visit me.
fight instructor: the one on Main?
Ron: no, that's the regular hospital. i'll be in the mental hospital, i just saw a Space Ghost.

* country: this is how we'll win the war: dayglo.
Putin: okay, i give, i admit it, you got me, i was not expecting war to be so pretty. all the pretty colors distracted my army. reminded me of the Olympics, Closing Ceremony more than the Opening one, nobody remembers the Opening one, right?

* Unabomber Speckles: i demand a squid sandwich.
butcher: you do realize i have my butcher knife right here beside me?
Unabomber Speckles: do you take bitcoin?
butcher: yes but Putin has the only real bitcoin.
Unabomber Speckles: i'll whip ya ass.
butcher: i'm into that stuff.
Unabomber Speckles: you do realize we used your voice on this phone call without your permission? you're in a famous work of art and you'll never know it.
butcher: if you say so. i'm content to be with my meat.

* ram: i wonder what the blue-pill side looks like?

* Luke: what are all these black and white lines smashing into me?
Han: the afterlife. we're all dead, we really died in the garbage compactor.
Leia: what about everything that came after the garbage compactor?
Han: dreams. wanna go out sometime?
Leia: i'm seeing Kylo Ren now.

* scientist: we discovered a new species: woodyallenites.


* patient: will i ever be normal?
psychiatrist: only if you're on drugs.

* patient: i'm starting over, i've gotten rid of my twin mattress and put my sofa bed in the wood chipper. i'm gonna make something of myself.
psychiatrist: we provide beds at the mental hospital.

* the middle finger does not denote anger, it denotes horniness.


happy weekend

Wednesday, November 4, 2015


Quinny lunges her bedraggled sister over to the Grand Oak. Binny is contemplating getting on her knees, her skirt is torn, her face is full of puss, her forehead is crackling open. steam can't escape her ears but there is steam everywhere from the general malaise of the person crush at the site. the poor Tree's branches are squeezed thin, suckling mouths the world over. the intense heat radiates in zigzag lines across the plain to form a video screen of crooked bursts which interferes with the drones' signal.

Binny: what is comes down to is the image. you have an image of what a particular grouping of letters looks like but what if it's not a word? what if it's a new word, a foreign word, or just a word that escapes your limited knowledge? there are so many things out there, people who've never heard of who have a million youtube followers, foods you'll never taste, places on islands who'll always pass on your tiny raft. for instance, what does a red shack look like? see? you do see, you have an image of this red shack in your mind, but you google it and see what the computer's image is to make sure. that's beginners', but it gets intermediate and immediate. what does big c, winsome, collapsed integrity, dusty fireplace, broken poker, laundrosat, bytology, impossible infrastructure, carrion cartridge, poley, wuwu, ewkfehf, slide step, marijuana pan, egg time, clean dirt, happenin' robot, supercat, disco diamond, watching watch, turncoat turbine, mowerer, road to nowhere, state reserve note, small globalization, jumbo shrimp, matterhood, pink leaf, the color of binary, forced friendship, difficult and/or tough conversation, slook, chariter, sad cabin, rat germs, fair markup, tiny hiney, honourable mention, specific permission, scientific permission, bothy, either or or, everything, and nothing

look like? google it. the pic or it never happens.

Binny is bleeding from the gash on her forehead so pristine it looks like another furrow, her blood turns gray like motor fuel.

Binny: errors 101, can compute too much. o sun please let me not look upon thee anymore, i can't look anywhere anymore for fear of happening to glance at another unknown word. i shut my eyes forever and let my black imagination sort out all the noise within my thinning brain stem.

through all the commotion and crowds, Quinny spies one little niggle of a small twig coming from Mother Grand Oak in the back that no one out front notices giving it all it's got, spraying a steady stream of milk in jagged squirts.

Quinny: what a waste. come, hun.

Quinny attaches Binny's mouth to the twig connected to the stem. the healing milk cools Binny's inner controls, putting her red eyes in sleep mode and preventing a catastrophic cascade.

Quinny: you rest, dear. she needs a little time before the reboot.


Uvula comes to to find herself underwater. her cave home is completely flooded, what valuable gold or stones or whatever have all been hollowed out. all that remains are hollows. the place is a watery graveyard but still the beauty of the deep blue ocean shines through the black.

Uvula: have i drowned? is this the one step beyond? no, i think i'm still alive, i peer down and see my gorgeous five-fingered hand, not a spirit with no form.

Atalan swims up to nudge her belly with his nose and squeaks joyously. he's glowing. he rubs his fins and tail on her bellybutton.

Uvula: proud pet, i see my reflection in your eyes. beast of the deep, i am not worthy to witness all of earth's miracles, i can only say i am happy. yes i can only know myself, i can only guess at your thoughts, i am still here and my flesh is wet.

sensing Uvula's weakness, Atalan summons up nearby seaweed and brush which turn alive into sea serpents and cucumbers and carry their queen from her wrists and ankles up.


Bump: are they ready, my lord and savior?

Codrus: yes, they have pickled properly. away.

Bump: where to?

Codrus: no, go away. don't you have a debate or something? not before you finish your homework. be sure to mention Larry David's bright white hair, keep hammering home to the kitchen table that he's too old for the job. that's a kitchen-table issue.

Bump: i probably shouldn't be talking about hair, boss. thank you for your priceless advice.


Kenyatta has found herself lost on the battlefield, in a dense wood setting of naked trees and howls. the drones are firing red and green lasers haphazardly, aiming for her, trying to hit her at least, setting bottom brown and orange autumn leaf piles alight into an unwelcome winter fire.

Kenyatta: if i were a little girl i'd be screaming like a little girl right now. i'm an adult but i feel like a scared little girl right now so what's the difference? it's easy to look at tv and books and blogs and see characters crying for their lives and laugh but when it's actually happening to you in real life it's a different story. there is nothing more real than death.

a mountain lion approaches Kenyatta.

Kenyatta: i know you. i think. friend. you must be with Uvula. thanks. even i can rarely admit when i'm in over my head. my pride is stubborn.

mountain lion: maybe next time don't pick such a cold place for base camp. got separated from your party?

Kenyatta: what's more isolated than an island paradise? i asked myself in my head. the drones got to us there, apparently they have a repair facility on a nearby uncharted island. dumb luck. you can't hide on this planet forever, the elements will get to you.  i'm a scouting party of one. not supposed to do that i know but i've never been one for manuals. everyone else is either too incompetent or too loved. it's always better to do things yourself.

the mountain lion attacks Kenyatta's neck with a quickness.

Kenyatta: i was just about to say shouldn't you be a snow leopard?

the mountain lion fits and starts and gets rubbery and malleable and all its DNA helices whip around and transform into Codrus.

Codrus: thanks for the note. always more notes. yeah, probably, still working out the kinks, still reading the manual, new tech for me, i've only just absorbed all of Uvula's power in her cave. btw you've just been injected with two of my tardigrades brimming with my orders, nature's nanomachines. the saber tooth is such a great natural hypodermic needle, too. nature really is the best.

Kenyatta (faltering): damn you. does this replace the one you forced down my throat? i tried everything to get it out, Cotard prayed over my body, i used a kitchen knife.

Codrus: my dear, i fear you can never escape me. you can't get rid of tardigrades, those little guys can survive a nuclear explosion in space! took awhile to develop the new ones that could penetrate you, you are very thick-skinned, you're a tough mama, i admire you for that, you don't get knocked down easily, i made your skin that way in the lab. everyone else in the world is easy. you really thought you could betray me and i wouldn't find out? you gotta read more books. or at least watch more tv.

Kenyatta: my equilibrium is balancing.

Codrus: they're a family of three tards, the perfect union, they're swimming the three of them in a circle, you can't see it but it's so cute. they just needed a family. now your orders and your response will be crystal clear, no more bugs in you. from the start, you were doomed. your life was not your own. i controlled you from jump when that little guy jumped into your ear. you thought you were the daily double agent, betraying the betrayer, pulling one over on the ol' boss. but the new boss is the same as the old boss, there are no bosses, just me for eternity in my Hugo Boss.

Kenyatta: you made me hate myself. i didn't know who i was ever. who was i working for? did it matter if it wasn't working for me? which deaths are the good ones? what is life? i was so smart, i could have done something that mattered. i could have been the mother of an invention. but you snuffed me out for your insane dream.

Codrus: all we are are our dreams.

Kenyatta: what are your plans for me, you sick freak? you won't win in the ending.

Codrus (chewing gum to keep his circulation up): simple. the most destructive ideas are simple. you are to be my gun *evil laugh which icicly reverberates through the white, turning the snow to hale*

from a distance on a snowy hill, Imzhan is lasering in on the site of Kenyatta's capture by Codrus. it's like he's using binoculars but he doesn't need binoculars, his eyes zoom in and binocularize on their own. he takes a banana out of his pocket and bites down on it gently with the peel still on. it's still warm and soft and moist.


Wolf: Mr. Bump, how do you feel about? well yourself?

Bump (on the phone): excuse me, Bear, gotta take this. why are you calling me now? we're in front of live tv! 30 million sets of eyes! oh it's you, boss. yes, i know, i remember, i did exactly what you asked, i didn't use the drones for my own personal amusement, i didn't use their screens to play Ms. Pac-Man, i used them to


nothing but pengwings in frozen blocks of ice.

Codrus: they WERE here, numbskull! i did that scan. but Imzhan's with them so they aren't anymore. where are they going next?! don't answer the phone on your podium, it's too close to the mic, the world will hear, you idiot. didn't everyone agree to no cell-phones? debates need rules or a free exchange of ideas will break out.

Bump: Bump Tower.

Codrus: that's your home page.

Bump: oh, i don't know........wait, Hoth! Hoth! be careful out there, boss, be careful of the lumbering elephants over there.

Cardozo: i demand equal time!

Bump: gotta go, boss, just ask Anderson if you don't know, he does my twitter.

Wolf: Mr. Bump, fuck you. and by you i mean the system. and you, pipe down, you featherfucker.

Cardozo: you say that as if it's a bad thing. a little birdy told me, my stepmother, that i'm now leading in the polls. i'm the people's parrot.

the in-studio audience and mediaheads and cable-news squawkers all cheer and applaud and howl. Cardozo lifts his wings and shakes his left one with his right one in triumph.

Codrus (on the drone screens): this is CNN Breaking News...

Wolf: fuck you.

Codrus:...ladies and gentlecitizens of the world, be afraid, be very afraid! all this time, who knew? all this time. folks, it's just come to my attention that the numbers in the center of those recycling symbols on the plastics all of you dutifully toss in the blue bin (red bin for some) each week, me and Mother Earth thank you for that, they're not designating types of plastics, they're the number of mind-altering tardigrades inside the plastic product that seeped into your skin and entered your skull upon touch with said plastic product. i know, i know, sorry, it's irreversible, take a moment with your loved ones before you all lose your last moment of coherency and become zombies. if you're looking to blame, Bump wanted to keep out all nasty foreign agents, they're the ones who polluted our rivers and streams, the water used to make water bottles, with their existing too much. too many cooks spoil the broth. they worked in our factories so they worked in our factories. blame Larry David! always blame Larry David for all the world's ills!

Kenyatta is chained to a sterling silver neckshackle on Codrus's neck inscribed with a hollow recycling symbol.

Kenyatta: the fuck? how'd you come up with such an outrageous plan? the whole world? the world is too complicated for this convoluted idea to work.

Codrus: the world is complicated but it could be simple. suckers + sucking = success. the better part of my life actually, 33 years. while you and your ilk were away at your hoitytoity fancyschmancy leftie loony luxurious liberal colleges, i worked for a living. i started out reading religion but Cosmos happened and i turned to science. then some Degrassi mass media arts classes, some Whedon screenwriting, some McLuhan, and you know what? i think i've got religion again. *evil laugh* i'm writing the perfect bible...


Kiss the cat is at the steering wheel of the vw bug that drove our two ladies to the Oak.

Binny's eyes roll up like slot-machine tickers until they settle on her.

Binny: oh my head, so much stuff up there. when did this development happen?

Quinny: remember? Cotard gave away his precious Kiss the kitten to us after Yayray died as someone else to love. to heal.

Binny: i didn't notice, didn't want to notice, refused to notice. all this time. no but i mean with the talking and the driver's license.

Kiss: it's been about two weeks. you seem to be off two weeks.

Binny: this is my second chance. i vow to be a nicer person, more considerate of others. i've always wanted to tell the pleasantly plump greasy man who tends the bakery at the Store just how warm and fluffy his churros are, and how warm and fluffy he is. i love those churros. his apron is greasy cos he works so hard to make them so long and ridged and cinnamony. there's always a problem, though, he's talking with someone like that tatted-up bitch that's always there or he's not there or i'm not there as in i'm not fully focused on the task at hand with my game face on ready to commit like a seasoned actress who's memorized her lines and not busy making excuses to run and not do it.

Quinny: that bitch is his boss. all the world's a stage and everyone its stagefrightened players.

Kiss: sure, i can take you anywhere you want to go now. don't worry, i've made all the arrangements, i've taken care of it. i put the house up for auction. it was a good thing i was able to transform into a mouse and hide in the mousehole.

Binny: our unique one-room house? why would you do such a ratfinked thing? that room was our home.

the heat from the moon is bubbling the pavement off the one road out of there.

Kiss: you seem to be two weeks off.