Wednesday, September 16, 2015


Binny (talking to herself): as i troll the hallways of this place, i can't help but feel it's my last days here. i've been here for what seems like forever, it's like i don't know a time when i was anywhere else. but things are changing. the tides are glad and rising, the stakes are being uprooted.

Binny scurries round a corner away from the overhead cameras and manages to find a pocket, a hole in the wall where reception is still possibly still. she calls Quinny at home.

Quinny: girl what you doing? you gonna have me admit i was worried bout chu? i told you to get outta there, it's a trap.

Binny: i should watch more movies. i dunno, i just wanted to see how far i could go, how much information i could absorb, maybe there was an answer in all that work, perhaps it was possible to know everything.

Quinny: sure, maybe it is, but it won't help. i got the rectangular photo of you in your cancer scarf that they filed away when they hired you. this is all we need. we can gaze upon this beautiful picture of my beautiful sister and we will eternally know of your bravery, your courage, and your fight. it may take your brain but it will never take your heart. this memory firmly implants in our mind, not our brains, where it stays to fight the forces of evil. we will surely win because this makes our bond unbreakable, like superglue unbreakable.

Binny smiles a biggest smile, it's just too bad Quinny can't see it over the phone...but she sees it.

Quinny: you didn't take any drugs, didya?!

Binny: of course not ya idyat! no Stones, just the cancer meds. well. one last shot at this diary. final entry:

i'm working now for the last time, until i have to work on the other side. hopefully i'm on the right side. well, the good side. logging in. and as ever my ipad is a cocktease. OH COME ON! EVEN NOW! yes please, don't work, whatever you do don't work, please don't work, make me wait that extra minute so i get captured. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS????????? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT THE SPINNING PINWHEEL OF ALL THAT IS NOT LIFE which hypnotizes you into a false sense of security, i've sworn off all carnivals and flower festivals forever! sake, looking up sake. no, not sale, sake. sake sale? not interested. well maybe i'm interested. huh, wouldn't have thought of that if not for the misspelling and the followup Google Suggestion. alright, send a case over to the house, Quinny will pay for it, i'm the one sick after all, though i'll never have as sick of a mind as her. *laughs* i really did laugh, not just a cyber-laugh, i felt it in my stomach, oh may i always remain human. another thing, too, is the AUTHOR. you look up apple on urbandictionary and you get apple on urbandictionary and any AUTHOR with apple in the author's his/her name and any entry they wrote up, which could be anything from apple to orange to dicktease. and another thing, lately now i look up any word on Google Translate and it comes out crazy like crazy. like it translates as "crazy". 

Binny's ipad-mini blue line finally reaches over all the way to the right as right on cue the office ever so slowly fills up with rushing raging water.


the raccoon and the duck are slowly coming out of their comas.

Favor: so quick. like time never stopped for a long time. are you okay, Rubber?

Rubber: i quack so.

Favor: OMG look at the screen my fine-feathered friend. it's, it's Uvula!

Rubber: bow down your head, do not make eye contact with our savioress.

Uvula in her red hoodie appears magically on the screen and takes a look round the corners of the fast-food establishment.

Uvula: ah, Favor, Rubber, there you guys are. prepping?

Favor: oh miss, i could smell your strawberry shampoo anywhere, i mean, yes.

Uvula: i love that instagram added Smell-O-Vision. this is almost as big as when they finally added the orange heart emoji. kids around the world took off school that day to celebrate with pumpkin pie and butternut squash and sweet potato salad and Smashing Pumpkins songs and tangerine juice. hey Rubber, you'll be spending a lot of time together on my front line, i have to ask, is the Rubber thing cos you're a hit with the duckettes?

Rubber: no, ma'am, i am your sole and loyal servant, there's no one else. i am many things to you in this army of one. i serve by you, for you, because of you, of you, through you on the battlefield of love.


Bump is to give a major policy speech aboard a warship but ends up driving the ship in circles for an hour instead.

Bump: folks, think about it, think about me, when you think of me, the concept that is Mickey Bump, the sugardaddy symbol of it all, you smile, right? everyone smiles inside, they can't help but wide-grin. before they report on the news the latest shenanigan i'm pulling, as they go to mention my name, my name creases their lips, and all the station anchors smile, man, woman, or internet cat. i bring a smile to everyone's face. cos i'm entertaining, i'm a showbiz veteran, i pay for the media, i am the special interest this cycle. so yeah. i'll just pay for whoever for the stuff to get done, there is no cost worthy of our Americanness. being President will be cinchy.

crowd: i hated that the roads were all blocked off while they were installing the new pavement for the roads. what a conundrum, you have to stop the traffic all gnarled with potholes and hot tempers in order for time enough to have new roads which will flow the traffic more smoothly, but in the meantime the wait creates more steam in people's brows than is spewing from the street.

Bump: yeah but what you gonna do? you could start building flying cars finally. that's it: flying cars, ONLY IN MURICA, finally something we can export! the next time you see a job-stealin' foreigner on the street, you tell them there are two types of people in this world, those that go to the toilet and those that like to watch. you flick them off and tell those toilet-watchers to go home. we already have the drones, it's just a simple modification to make them fly and guzzle gas. but only if you vote for me, folks. i'm not doing this for my health, i'm already dead, keep this reality show going i mean gong show i mean show of this current undeniable political reality going, it's fun as fuck!


on tv at the U.S. Open, Roger Federer takes the mic after beating Novak Djokovic in an epic five-set thriller that ends 12-10 Fed in the fifth-set tiebreak to earn his 18th Major, tiebreak for the whole enchilada, for the championship. those fifteen minutes of the tiebreak were more watched than that Stanley Cup Finals Game 7 overtime, remember that?:

Federer (sweaty in front of a wildly-applauding, hollering, adoring public inside the semi-roofed stadium): tonight i stand before you as the greatest of all time *drops the mic*


Cotard is ready for his monologue. *the camera closes up*

Cotard: my brother, i am well rested and ready for my next phase in life. i have no idea what that entails but i feel i've gone as far with this as i can. i need a change, no i need a paradigm shift. i have to start doing something important. well let's start with something. i will regale you with my last memories of my poor mother. we shall cry together and bond but that is where our bond ends, the real hero travels alone. at the end, Mama was ever vigilant, ever kind, ever happy despite her sadness, ever glad to help, ever herself. i noticed there were more bad days but then she had a good day which would wipe out any memory of those sour times. she started to buy a lot of stuff, y'know, mystery things in brown boxes would be daily delivered by UPS, stuff she'd order on QVC, her way of keeping less lonely, these should have been anniversary and birthday gifts from dearly departed Dad. even the UPS man raised a lip at everything he had to deliver and he got commission. his brown shorts were soaked. she would go to church not so much for the endless sanctimonies, she figured she had done enough praying, she was secure for Heaven, no problem, i'd make sure of it with my prayers, but for the free food that no one seemed to want to claim, she'd fill up huge brown bags of tons of bagels and sugar donuts. nobody could have eaten all those bagels, not a bagel-lover, not the inventor of bagels. we had no money, and all this buying wasn't helping, but i just sighed inside. it was just me and her, me and her pension and me and my lazy ass. the last day, well one of the last days, the very last day i blacked out, i was having breakfast as usual and my bacon tripped and fell its grease all over the pantry. she never hesitated, she clipped off two paper towels on the dots, and wiped all the grease off my bacon by patting those strips down. she saved the grease on the countertop for later.

Cotard's mother Fuerza: don't eat greasy bacon, mijo, not good for you.

in the present, in Cotard's bug car, all of the ashes have flown out of the urn and have formed a person. it is none other than Fuerza herself, back from the dead, the real one, not a ghost. this is Fuerza's Final Form. she knocks on the door of the ranch to a terrified her son and Erneste.

Cotard: mama? cannot be. i must have more sleep to rub out of my eyes. oh the devil's treatment is especially cruel when he tricks.

Fuerza: it is i. my son. i go by many names, i may have played another character with the same name, but know that i am who you know, who you've always known, i am here with you forever. i am the only plumber you call, i alone plunge you to the deepest depths and the highest highs, down and up, the only hole you recognize. and i really mean that, like forever, eternally, beyond your wildest philosophy but not beyond your wildest imagination.

the hug between mother and son is superglue.

Cotard: mama, i was an atheist but i prayed for you everyday cos i respected you that much, er respect you that much. in fact i became the first atheist monk, i was willing to live the boring spiritual life if it meant i could pray for you and Dad's souls forever, it was the least i could do for being a rotten kid and horrible son.

Fuerza: mijo, you weren't a bad kid, you were a kid. not a bad man, just a man. i adored you, your father, too, you were the orange of our eye. oh you could've been a hit with the ladies, you were handsome enough and smart enough. there were plenty of women at my church functions who would have deemed you spongeworthy. but if this is what you truly want to do, if you're happy, i'm okay with it. why does this sound like a response to you becoming a porn star?

Cotard: i watch a ton of porn in the monastery but that's for another day. oh mom, dad, i owe it all to you guys. without your genes, i am nothing.

Erneste (removing his cowboy hat): does this work? does it work if you are here gloriously before us instead of in his memory?

Fuerza looks solemn. so does Cotard.

Cotard: he's right, mamacita, you can't stay, everything in its right place, everything in its course, nature rights the bumpy waves of the universe, it all evens out and is useful and somehow fits together and was meant to be from among the infinite possibilities. i'll just close with one of your last days: you were lugging around a particularly heavy box.

Fuerza: the one that had all those massively long poles of salami completely covered in that white packing dust?

Cotard: no. don't do drugs, mama. (Fuerza (softly in the background): no it really is interesting packing dust.) i offered to help but you were more interested in me helping you unhook the chain around your neck. it was always a chore for me cos those damn jewelry things had the tiniest holes and latches you'd ever seen and your ears had the smallest holes nothing could fit through even with those thin-prick earrings. and it didn't help that you'd coat your neck with slippery bengay powder beforehand.

Fuerza: that box contained tons of the Stones.

Cotard: WHAT!!!

Fuerza: a mother knows. as a last resort, i wanted you to have them if you were in danger or you felt hopeless or you just wanted to feel strong.

Erneste knocks back the tip of his hat and smirks.

Erneste: that's alright, pretty lady, your son has been ingesting the Stones for a time now. it was in the tea i've been plying him with.

Cotard spits out like a whole gallon or something of golden sparkling water.

Cotard: you mean that? never swallowed. never swallow, once you swallow, you're committed for life.

Erneste: WHAT? HOW? you kept all that liquid in your mouth for days?...weeks?...however long we've been here?...even in your sleep?...all the times you were conversating with me?

Cotard: i've been practicing the trick since i was a boy living with you, mom. everytime you gave me that nasty white Mylanta that tastes like chalk. not a fan of mother's milk that doesn't come from a breast.

Erneste: no spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down? that was big even here in Brazil.

Fuerza (turns to the camera): well how about that? thank god you lied to me all these years. thank god my Mary Poppins vhs was stolen by house invaders.

Fuerza (smiles): what a devilish boy. son, give your ol' ma some sugar. no, i meant a kiss. thank you. son, i shall return. there are so many more


and with that, Fuerza touches up her gray-and-white-streaked hair, becomes a ghost, and flies into her big boy Cotard's fourth eye.


AVY said...

How do you come up with all this? I want to have dinner in your mind some day.

/ Avy

the late phoenix said...

avy: i'm a grown man who never stopped watching cartoons. i can eat ;)

Jules said...

Damn that iPad mini.

If you could have smell -o- vision on insta then I could make some awesome videos…

I want to hug Cotard’s Mother, I do… There’s never a bad son to a Mother.

Lovely words and sentiment in this ethereal story. *)

the late phoenix said...

juli: imagine all the flower insta pics, the pics of pizza, even the pics of apples! i love all mothers and motherhood and shall write of them forever. thank you, my sweet *)