Wednesday, October 18, 2017


Mr. Maldark is back in his office. at home.

he tries on his ratty ecru robe from college and removes his baggy underwear. he sways with his clothes on as they become less and less. he grabs the hock of sweaty ham from his rattan hamper from college.

Intendo: so that's what's there.

Maldark: i gave your men quite the show this morning, Intendo.

Intendo: Nintendo. i mean, no, you had it right.

Maldark: do you know what it feels like, G Man?

Intendo: i'm as poor as you.

Maldark: i don't think so. it's all different now. i have to eat but one slice of bacon per day. instead of my usual two sticks of gum it's down to one. i fisted five Pringle chips without a second thought, now i carefully slice up one chip from the Pringles pile and place the rest in the tube. no more full bars this year.

Intendo: Halloween is cancelled this year. the kids will be so disappointed.

Maldark: no more full bars of Hershey's chocolate. have to get the almond ones for protein. can't fuck around with those empty-calorie Reese's cups which add no nutrition. half a bar of chocolate from now on. one envelope of sugar for my coffee. when there's coffee. i mean i would unconsciously crack two eggs no problem for breakfasts. one egg forevermore. like the number zero. the omelette is a dream. do you know what it's like, Super?

Intendo: don't call me that.

Maldark: today i'm lucky. i got bacon. the one with maple brown sugar. it sticks in my hand like a greased ball of gravity. i lick my fingers hoping to feel solid again. like it will coat my aching esophagus with a palliative petroleum. slime the skids. make it easier to go down.

Intendo: i've got some bad news for you, champ.

Maldark: please, i'm eating. and when i cook, i art, and when i art, i have to wear the right attire. this shirt of mine. oh my Brother got it for me. way too big for my wasting frame. it's more like a full dress and skirt it's so long. i'm almost tripping on it when i walk. so i have to each time twirl it into a snake and wrap it around my waist. i tie it in a bow and make sure to show my midriff. then i do a little dance. a nice long faggy dance. like this. see it? you like what you see? your boys did. do you think this becoming of a teacher? a leader of women and men? is this funny to you?

Intendo: i think this is very serious. but it's true you are fagged. you hit the skids. come on, get to it. put the bacon bits on your nipples and feed your hellion cats and let's scram.

in the car

Intendo: your house is being auctioned off. to the Feds. it's our property now. it's one huge crime scene.

Maldark: but my home is small. it's more like an apartment.

Intendo: the only way you'll ever get it back is if you refinance it or something. or rob a bank and get the money. you better come up with something fast. a scheme or a scam.

Maldark: you guys love to kick a guy when he's down.

Intendo: makes it easier. i've got a brochure. look over at my pants pocket.

Maldark: oh no. i'm not joining the dark side.

Intendo: i swear, Maldark, just one time. right in the kisser.

Maldark: you wish, i don't like you like that.

Intendo: coulda fooled me.


President Bump: look at this landscape! cool countryside unspoilt by man.

Michael Fish: mostly by man they mean you.

Bump: i know. i'm awesome. i am the man. this is where my race will take place. and it will be amazing.

Michael Fish: then why don't you get out of that light van and walk a few meters, tubby.

a man stumbles his Ford F150 truck to the side of the curb and gets out next to the men. his face is ashen and he looks as if he's seen a ghost.

man: God Bless America.

Bump: yes?

man: i just came back from my house. what was my house. back from Hell. with its mouth held wide, letting all the bad feelings out. a hellspont of hellspawn. burned to the ground, not a crisp left. we can rebuild. even though i have no money. we can rebuild doesn't mean we can. it approaches you without your notice nor consent. like a spiteful spirit looking for revenge for what your grandfather did. before the warning goes out a pair of flames lick your feet fingers. you're disoriented cos you wanted one last snooze in your own bed before you have to scavenge for safety. the trees encumber under pounds of ash and cinder which fall like snow. i found my family photos but not my family. this area isn't known for fires. i hate wine. why did this happen to me? i try to be a good person. is the universe random?

Bump: next time you gotta get small. that's how everyone has to live their life now.

man: you can't get small once the flames have enveloped you, sir. what do you mean next time?!

Bump: why are you here? there are men on the weather channel?

Michael Fish: didn't you see me in the '80s?

Bump: distracted. i was trying to strike it rich at a casino.

Michael Fish: well i am here to say that Ophelia will be a ripper. she will envelop both islands with her stern gaze and squeeze the wind out of us! she is a fierce feisty spirit returning to her Gaelic granary atop the true spot of her Celtic church so rudely rubbled by the local nonbeliever villagers an aeon ago. they will rue the day they desecrated her with deism. she comes back to her coven along with the other mothers. i call all mothers now cos all mothers are witches. they wield their magic with their words on the telephone. they are the ones who control the weather make no mistake. we merely meteor their magic.

Bump: what about my precious golf courses? will they be okay? will they survive the storm? without much uprooting? those tufts are tough.

Michael Fish: i see it all now. on my map. a red sun has crept over your golf courses. purveying with its radiative rays. bands of birds fly crazy patterns along the seashore, pooping in all the holes.

Bump: NOOOOOOOOOOO. wait, England doesn't get hurricanes! there you go again, Europe, trying to be us.


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