funny thing about time. it never stands still. it's one where then another. as soon as you think you're progressing naturally, retro is in. you think this immutable fact has happened, this thing which marks a point in the stars which no blue box can contain, but as soon as you get out your pencil to outline it, it's already moved. all of these events have happened before, in perfect synchronicity, in writer-speak outline perfect reference unison, connecting all the dots marked in pen. but all of these events haven't happened yet. just ask Codrus.
take Madchen. she is at the foot of a volcano but at the peak of her powers. her mourning mother powers. she raises her arms in a kind of mockery of the V sign and lets it all out. her blue eyes turn red. her soft mound of a mouth becomes the conduit of all of Mother Earth's pain. it spews a kind of guttural green-brown lava that is untouched by man but touched by woman deep within the earth's undiscovered crust, the primal stuff from which we were all born. it cascades with an unfossilized rage, spreading to all the four corners, coating the ice caps with a protective layer, reseeding the sod, rearranging the sods, transplanting them to other places beside their safe hometowns forcing them to see through exotic eyes. the globe is a marble regenerating, tired of the old ways but tired also of the solution. when the world was one. literally. one tectonic plate wanting to return to the simpler time when there was no need to find a way.
Madchen: today is Gold Star Mothers' Day.
that was when her world ended
take Codrus. at this very same moment in "time" the casual dictator has donned his Fiddler cap and pointed his ever-growing finger at the ol' White House.
Codrus: this is for my ol' Cornwallian home. here's the counterrevolution you inbred ingrates!
he explodes the House in an unusual way. it uproots apart from the bottom in a fireball of blue but not from an explosion. he literally transforms the House into the volcano that was standing there in its place originally at the start of prehistoric Earth. the volcano spews the same blue lava which in this case begins pumping the oil lines and offbeat paths and bicycle routes and cloverleaf interchanges full of a viscous gooey sickly brown glue. this substance is worse than drugs, it's permafrost but it's permanent. it covers each layer of good from Madchen with a layer of too-good. green becomes a relative color and the icecaps melt so fast only the deep divers out exploring as is their wont survive. those with the burden of a heavy helmet on their head. never wanting for courage. the courage to learn. the entire earth is swallowed up into a tight grey rubber-band ball which allows no room for growth. the earth was the humans' jail all along.
Codrus: heehee. climate change, was it ever real? moot point now. the sky is over. no more layers. we all return to the water don't we? even us humans with wings. but i can't keep this up, my hand is getting tired. hmm, that's what lackeys are for.
Codrus transfers the unrelenting glue to the first struggling mouse person he sees on the ground, who just happens to be Mickey Bump viciously kicked off his horse. Mickey tries one last time with a hand gesture to will himself up and finally speak his truth but all that comes out is glue. the glue that will seal his fate and those of his fellow believers. not believers in him but believers in humanity. believers in heroes. in not the first hundred days but of the next. believers in hope.
the press crew are trying their darnedest to keep on their feet by kneeling. Jorge Ramos leads the charge as Bump gives a quizzical look at the useless show in front of him.
Jorge: my friends in the media and my real friends, we must not relent. don't give up don't ever give up. the way we respond to this gutteral campaign is a mark on our souls. we will be judged on how we decided to fight the menace in front of us. or if we surrendered our inconvenient truths. try try try. Viva La Raza!!!
everyone tries to touch their knees to the ground but by now the golden air layer of Stones dust generating from the blue canton box of the American flag is too much and crushes all dissidents, bending them to the Will of Codrus and forcing them to salute. Bump sighs out of that signature rich boredom.
Bump: Jorge, i love you. *makes the heart with the hands sign* amigo te amo. you helped me early on. that was a good show i can tell yous that. got the entertainment thing kickstarted. got a packed schedule today as you can imagine. people making lists for me so i don't forget. but honestly the only thing i'm looking forward to is lunch! join me in the Cream Commissary with the whole gang for a core burrito, stop by in your taco truck, free parking in the rotunda, we validate! i'm getting sick of these taco bowls i have to eat.
there, at the Cream House Drawing Room, Bernie is flapping the face of Hilary on the couch with his National Geographic Nude Special magazine.
Bernie: they had to use the special crane. they pried open the roof of the bathroom nice and clean the way the TouCan can opener attacks a can, from the bottom up, removing the entire top not just the lid. this is my big break!
Hilary: not so fast, old man. shit i'm old, too. when did we get so old?
Codrus: i wouldn't know. Hilary, the people are begging to see you!
Hilary: i can't. i'm all a-flustered. i'm coming down with something. or something is coming down on me. i'm in love! with the Pope!
Bernie faints and takes a long hard nap.
Codrus: it is fascinating to watch you folk grow frail. not being able to rely on your bodies anymore. what then do you rely on? poor ol' grandpa didn't take his pneumonia pills.
the Pope: *wiping her mouth and continuing her darning of booties* there are pneumonia pills? damn. what wonders of science!
Codrus: there are pills for everything. but they merely assuage the symptoms, never attack the root problem.
Bump: i take pills for my migraines. get horrible headaches from having to carry around this hair all day. and the fact that my head is literally pumping drugs into my brain doesn't help matters.
Jorge: your head hurts, sir, from all the nightmares in your mind. not that anyone cares about a person like me but i took pills to learn English. can we get this over with? i'm really uncomfortable in mixed company.
Bump: right this way, senor.
and the two bosom buddies lead into Bump's new walled-off tributary of a circular room with a view of the rotunda and not much else. a flat-earth globe is next to the red Bat Phone. the Tributary Conservatory it's called. for some spicy paella.
Bump: awww dad, i'm with my friend. what is it?
Codrus: address me with the proper tone, old man. it's the biz. you got beeswax in your ears. are you attending? will you be seen?
Bump: fine. where do i have to sign?
Codrus: here, here, and here...great. so you authorized Ryan Lochte to go into hiding witness protection, promoted Gary Johnson to Ambassador to Aleppo, and declared war on Iran effectively starting WWIII. last one's just for me. it won't happen, time is up, but the thought of another world war, the war to end all wars, melts my heart and will keep me warm at night long after the earth is toast. not the earth night, the universe night, heehee. midnight snack in the galley if you get peckish after the show. leftover paneer from the gala banquet tonight.
Bump: why wasn't i invited? im the fucking President.
Codrus: it was for GSF, your real vice-president, the one i chose in secret to govern. as a joke of course.
Bump: GSF? Game Show Farce?
Codrus: Gold Star Father. you know the funny dude with the nice tan whose name no one could remember to pronounce? yeah everyone calls him by his lovable nickname. we needed someone to root for round here after the RGIII debacle. he would have made a great resident, i mean president. but we'll never know.
Bump harangues a bit more about hating his life then slams his door, jumps into his bed, and pulls the covers over his large head. the covers is his autographed poster of Hilary at his wedding. Jorge stares at the speed-painting of Bump in the room for a second then tries to jump over the fence to freedom.
at the Wizard of Oz show:
Oz: i'm a licensed registered medical television doctor. we have here a manila envelope of your results. anything you want to get off your chest before i continue?
Bump: *continuously folding and unfolding his hands* my heart. that's a nice suit you're wearing. one of mine? i got factories all over the world. nah i'm good. i'm in perfect health you'll see. i eat junk food all the time not fazed.
Oz: you are what you eat. but that's what they say i wouldn't know. i'm kind of a charlatan truth be told. in it for the show. can't hide it anymore with all these drones in tow. and now we....raise the curtain!
Ivanka, who now works for the show as a glamour model, appears in a dazzling gold-bead form-fitting dress hugging all of her milf curves with a baby on her back and the folder in her hand.
Ivanka: sorry pop.
Bump: only care about one woman.
Oz: well it reads here that you are indeed pretty spry for an old guy. but that's not what we want to know.
Bump: taxes? too taxing. you don't want that boring stuff, you want to be entertained.
Oz: no. it's the elephant in the room.
Bump: okay there are three parties now, happy?
Oz: no, the flaming goldness on top of your head. who are you working for? what is your real agenda? is it the Russians? you a made man? not a self-made man? you mafia? you a gangsta?
Bump: sure. oh my Russian blokes they are good people. fearless cos they're godless. they look up on the computer anything i need, i'm not tech-savvy you see, i'm more of a concept man. big, broad ideas. heehee just the other day they were laughing about their latest video seeing their enemies' bodies get sawed in half by an errant missile. who are these people getting killed? no one knows. that drone footage nowadays is fucking real, man, anything you want at your fingertips, uncensored, unfiltered, and crystal. even fingertips if you want. battlefield bruises up close and personal, everything is taped now. we got an app that lets you see the blueprints of all our secret underground bunkers. no more spying. no more secrets. we see everyone's parties.
Oz: what is health? what is heart disease but a broken heart? schizophrenia but a bloated brain? too much information but the only information that matters is god. is there a god?
Bump: yeah yeah of course. i work for him! he's my boss! bit of a hardass. he thinks he's god or sumpin but once you get to know him he sheds that biblical veneer. yeah relax it's all taken care of. always been taken care of. we'll be fine. we'll be fine.
the ladies are conjuring and commencing trail-and-erroring trying to come up with the perfect formula. all the world's fires have locked arms into one large conflagration scorching the entire earth surface that more and more resembles a giant flame which burns angrily despite being alight on the one earth ocean.
Madchen: i can't keep this up much longer i'm only human. i can only talk so much. but ladies, the lava flow is flying up to the sky showing us the bridge out. this is all so weird but i'm going with it. for Hart.
Carmen: good news everyone. i'm working on something here. the mineral of my tree is unknown. it's like simonite but not quite. wish i knew, it would make the rocket-manufacturing process smoother.
Madchen: i don't mind chunky. just build it big enough to hold all of us. *sniff* all of us but my boy. i'd help but my hands are tied.
Herlina: it's okay, things are myths not because of what they are but because someone once believed in them.
Madchen wriggles her arm away for a second enough to touch Carmen's shoulder.
Madchen: hey. look at my fire eyes. i need you. i believe in you, buddy. this isn't a joke religion anymore.
Carmen: got it. *lowers head*
a kokeshi doll washes ashore. Herlina finds it but gives it up to Carmen.
Carmen: okay if i douse this doll with some unani medicine powder i whipped up after i used up all my garlic salt for the spaghetti, that'll do the trick.........no..........
Madchen: *tightening* just swallow your codswallop load and DO IT!
Carmen: *sweating like a man* i profusely DID IT! the doll works!
Madchen: DO IT!
Carmen pokes her finger into the forehead of the doll and stretches it to reach the body of Hartwin on the ocean bottom.
Madchen: see the moissanite in his third eye? what color is it?
it takes two weeks for Carmen to answer. MADCHEN HAS NOTHING FORWARD TO LOOK AT BUT DESERT, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK
Madchen: perfect. it blended. it's settled. rip it out and we'll take him with us.
Herlina takes a look around at the world closing in on her. seven hills are forming forming a perimeter against the fired-up dead world outside the circle. on the first hill Madonna hits the remaining human-animal hybrids trying to climb up into her mansion with her microphone. she sings into her mic and it transforms into a gleaming silver sword. on two other hills Weird Al Yankovich and Jesus are shooting back the breeze:
Weird Al: i thought I was weird. you're speaking in tongues. but i can understand you!
Jesus: *sticks out his tongue* people think i'm the King but i'm really the Trickster.
on the fourth hill a phoenix is foraging but the mudflat has turned into a dirt circle. a bit of the redness from its wing has joined with the flame outside and the hill has caught fire. it's too late for the ol' bird. he's resurrecting whether he wants to or not. he transforms into a bennu for a split second then turns into a grey heron squawking like a rubbing saw.
the remaining three hills remain distorted from view.
y'know there was just something about that Bump presidency. it was as if the Earth itself simply wouldn't let it get past the first day.