Wednesday, December 30, 2015


Codrus knocks heads with a sleeping Cotard.

Codrus: sorry, buddy, didn't see you there.

Cotard: i've never lived until now...

Codrus: that's for sure! look at us! we're the kings of the world! let's make our final battle clean and balanced and well-fought. and fair above all. i want to feel i've earned my status as Postgod.

Cotard rubs the saliva from his mouth and tastes the airless air of outer space.

Cotard: no worries, my friend. thank you for letting me sleep. i see we can still stand up in the middle of the cosmos and fly without wings. victims to gravity no more. we can move fluidly throughout the black destiny of space like birds. if this is a dream may we never wake up.

Codrus: i know, right? the key will be when we can balance ourselves upon the middle of time and look out in all directions wondering where to go next. that TARDIS is too clunky. for now, we're Superman in real life. and look, right on Christmas cue, here come the three wiseguys.

three asteroids speed along the dark sky as if they're late for the office party after drinking too much holiday nog. one is a big frozen rock of clear white ice. you can see Walt Disney motionless in it. Walt's wtf face indicates that this is not comfortable and he wants to make another movie. a lightsaber glows red on top of the space ice cube trying to burrow its way through the ice and onto Walt's outstretched hand. Walt was wishing upon something when he went. Codrus turns his head around and turns Cotard's head around for him. the two can see the other side of the asteroid without moving. on the back of the Disney dolomite is a manger scene. Han Solo comes out of Greedo's gun and Greedo comes out of Han's gun in the background. Boba Fett's in the middle. all three wear crowns. in the foreground Princess Leia wears her traditional white shawl but it covers her head. Luke is there in a long beige shepherd robe holding a crooked cane. Leia cradles a baby. the baby wrapped tightly in swaddling clothes is cute little green Yoda. you can only see Yoda's face. Yoda sticks out his tongue. on the second asteroid, Superman stands proudly arms akimbo gazing out into the galaxy. the reverse has Goku striking the same pose guarding over the other side of the universe.

Codrus: the third asteroid is hard to see. well for mere mortals. see Charles Darwin on the tabletop of that floating rock working furiously on his oak desk? he's scribbling notes but his mind is always faster than his wrist. if you watch closely, you can see microscopic organisms dancing by his feet. see them?

Cotard: yes.

Codrus: now if we look on the other side of this particular asteroid we see that the dance is really these microorganisms struggling to survive. but there is nothing on the other side. a black hole inside a black hole. the microorganisms are clamoring aloud but it's too soft to hear: why do we survive? what is this charge that spurs us on toward survival if there is nothing to survive for? it's all just meaningless anyway. we're all just gonna die, that is all our fates, there is no lasting. and yet our impetus to survive is there. it's not not there, it's not in keeping with the all-encompassing nihilism of the night sky. the struggle is real. that's just it, the struggle is indeed real, it exists. now the purpose of survival, well that's advanced theory, maybe we'll come to that when we get older and acquire a few more cells.

a fierce red comet barnstorms its way toward Codrus with a quickness which takes him aback. he tries to hide his hesitation with his fingers.

Codrus: gotta make sure this isn't you know's not, ha..................carry on

Codrus grabs the comet midflight and slurps it into his gut like spaghetti, sucking all its energy into his breath, warming his breath. you can see the breath of the two combatants with the letter C when they exhale, it shoots out like stardust.

Codrus: it's always a cold day. do you know what wishing stars are really made of? go ahead, take a look.

Codrus removes the half-digested star from his stomach and hands it to Cotard.

Codrus: i've broken it down a bit so you can see its insides.

into Cotard's hands fall millions of handwritten notes from children and grown-up children all over the world with their deepest darkest desires for themselves and their families, wishes for good fortune throughout their lives, appeals to Job, desperate invocations to dead relatives, suicide notes, prayers to Deepak Chopra, and a recipe for authentic spaghetti. mostly written from the sides of beds, whether at home or beds in various hospitals.

Cotard: of course all of these souls are long since gone. oh chillen, don't you worry your little heads, i will be your Santy Claus.

Codrus: don't let this space fool you. watch this space, watch it for awhile, see how it trembles before me, I control it, i mold it, manipulate it, i am the artist at the end of time, i put on my black beret and dare to claim the empty throne which has grown dusty from everyone else who ever lived assuming it was taken. it was a game, sure, but now it's my game, it's under my steady control, i make the rules, i punched my hand where it didn't belong. space is my baby, it lives under my contours, i am free to roam around and create new spacetime, a new star from my eyetear, a new tear in the fabric from the scar on my abdomen. now i have a reason not to cut my toenails, they're burgeoning dimensions. fly eagle fly. I'M THE QUEEN OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE! i'm the Ronda Rousey of the universe! i mean i'm the Holly Holm of the universe!!!

Codrus begins expanding his body and slowly destroys the x axis. the y axis is holding on by a thread but it intersects with the z axis and it's a most crucial interception in the ball game. that was not the gameplan. the center cannot hold, it creates a new circle with a new letter addressed to no one. Codrus's stomach doesn't get fatter as much as it gets a bigger sixpack.

Cotard: well now you're just showing off. you don't have to rub it in my face that i need to work out more. new years resolutions. it's tough for a local parishioner, nobody should have to choose between church dues and gym dues. hey before you go, would you mind giving us all a Christmas message on my instagram?

Codrus wobbles around.

Codrus: i'm not used to my new body, haven't grown into it yet. i have fat fingers but let's see if i can type. there you go, send that out to whatever alien species are left. heeheeheehee.

Codrus sends out an inspo quote in white letters against a red-and-green backdrop which reads:


Cotard reads this on his phone with a sly smile and keeps calm.

MEANWHILE back at the rectangle box which provides a cover shelter haven outside space and time for Cotard's mother Fuerza and her three new friends, Mama Fuerza is having a deeply engaging philosophical discussion with Tror.

Fuerza: it's so deeply engaging it's put your poor parents to sleep. let them rest, i envy them. what i mean is that you've stopped me from my third wine, that's an accomplishment. i do enjoy our talks, it's just that i'm old and that affords me the luxury of dreaming more, reminiscing and nostalgicizing.

Tror (blowing bubbles): you were telling me about the door thing?

Fuerza: *hiccup* what? oh yes. right. the door. well you see when people enter a dark room, say a gamer's basement, they blindly wave their arms around like a chicken looking for the light switch. they dare not go down another step without the light on. after a few tries, or rather one aborted try, they give up and walk out. better safe than sorry. but what they are missing! it's not so much the stuff in the room as the door to the next room inside the staircase. and on and on, all the rooms are connected in this way. i got connections, man. why aren't you wearing your shades, daddy-o? i don't wear mine to be cool, they're prescription.

Tror: oh but you are one cool kitten, ms. fuerza. my eyes are used to extreme brightness from home. my pupils evolved, their final form has them already wearing tiny sunglasses. i can see the door of which you speak. shall we go inside?

Mama smiles. on the other side of this door on the side of the stairs is another boxy room which has been set up. there Bridge is pregnant with Kenyatta's baby, the first natural birth from two women in the history of human time. Kiss the kitten is seen prancing around curling around Kenyatta's leg purring. Cotard appears and lovingly hugs his cat rough-pockmarked cheek to furry cheek. his tear trickles down and hits Kiss's oval cateye.

Cotard: one more time.

Kiss: it's okay, fam, we all must make sacrifices. it makes us bigger.

Kiss transforms into a black-footed cat and jumps into Bridge's stomach. he rolls around in there like he's playing with a bigass ball of yarn. Kiss then transforms into his final form: a human baby that cries only once as it comes out of Bridge's vagina.

Cotard touches the foreheads of Bridge and Kenyatta at the same time with his two pushing fingers each.

Kenyatta: don't close your eyes, Father. *smiles* it's okay. Cotard, we're friends. thank you from both of me *half-nod/half-bow*

Cotard (with intensity): my child, my sistren, my friends, coworkers, comrades, compatriots. be merry. and remember, this is what's real. by which i mean this is real. don't believe anything or anyone else. today a child is born.

if you were to stare at and go from this room through the stair door of this room you'd enter a very special place. located in the clump of half-propped-up buildings next to the Surf Shack. a makeshift hospital area of cots like on M*A*S*H. there lies a young woman on a bed recently deceased from a fatal terminal degenerative hopeless brain disease just starting to thrive again for the first time in her death. a volleyball athlete. at her bedside is LeBron James.

LeBron: told you.

Lauren: LeBron? you didn't forget me! you did come to see me again! where am i? who am i?

LeBron: when am i? sorry, had to. i guess we can joke now that you're out of the woods. what's your name again?

Lauren: i forgot.

LeBron: okay, let's go with Lauren.

Lauren: so you're dead?

LeBron: come on, man, i'm LeBron James. i gotta still prove myself. there are those out there who think i can't get it done. that's what spurs me. gotta get back to the game, we're down by 2 at San Antonio. i didn't want to get fouled but i did. doesn't always go to plan. i have to sink these freethrows. no time on the clock. see Shaquille O'Neal behind me?

Lauren: i missed him.

LeBron: Shaq'll look after you the rest of the way. he has time. he's retired and sick of doing those ads, he feels too bonded. talk to him when you get lonely, he's affable, friendly, cool, funny. i wish all giants were gentle.

LeBron gets up and stands up straight. his tats shine against the ocean mist from outside.

LeBron: wherever there's a sports fan in a world, whenever, that sports fan connects to the endless timeline, from Bill Walton to Jordan Curry (nicknamed Magic Jr). there is no finish line. i live in that sports fan's heart, dribbling around depression, traveling illegally through tumors, dunking on death. throwing it down on the big man. posterizing pestilence.

Lauren: thank you. i'm definitely gonna get more into basketball now.

Codrus is ballooning. his ears, furrow freckles, the edge of his ears, his hollows, tubes, capillaries, neurons, sockets, cavities nasal and tooth, thin lips and glottala of a red palette, head lice which turn into snakes, precious neck veins, his neck that's too small for any sort of vicious necktie, not-level collarbone, heart that's too sizes to the left of where it should be, sagging pecs, bellybutton that's neither an innie nor an outie but a flatty, curling fingernails, armpits no wormhole can mask the odor of, hairy penile implant, strained calves, all enlarge. there's an ass but there is no butt to speak of.

Codrus's appendages all coil and curve in a c forming the extra-long tubular side of a giant space dragon. his lines spread all across the far reaches of the galaxy in every direction. as he approaches edges, black latches try to insert his body parts into nice evenly-cut holes and snap him in his right place. instead Codrus smirks and pushes his parts into squares which slowly reach the other side of nothingness. at every edge a peg. he has the edge.

Codrus opens his huge


at the moment Cotard can't escape and he's enveloped in a pink film that is thick but nevertheless Cotard is able to see through it. one corner of the galaxy Codrus's body turns into the head of the mythic dragon of old. to the immediate left of this Codrus is the bull snorting huffily continuously. up from this he's a monkey holding a rat by the tail who's holding the monkey by the tail as they each juggle each other's glass balls. down from this the new universe presents its last head as that of a green bald eagle who has on top of its head the most all-over-the-place strawy hair that was once smooth silk from the loom of a German fairy tale.

Codrus: you are now inside my stomach. you can only see what i deem to show you. you will see only through me, what i want you to see. give a brother a break, moving's hard. now if you're a well-behaved good little demigod i may allow you to see the new digs when i'm finished. all this white is blinding me. but it needs to adjust to my eyes. nothing scarier than a blank page that just stares back at you.

Cotard maintains his smile spilling out the side of his mouth. Cotard gives a most sexy man-pout as he peruses the vista from his new bubble. Cotard is pretty sexy for a monk but he can't stay, Cotard has had a long day and needs to go back to sleep.


Jules said...

I want to taste the airless air of outer space and regard the new age Christmas nativity but that wouldn’t be a good idea for a nihilist like me. I’d be much more interested din the recipe for authentic spaghetti or the variations on a sexy man pout.

Happy New Year, my sweet *)

the late phoenix said...

FELIZ ANO NUEVO, MY BABELICIOUS BEAUTY! peace and prosperity in the new year, mah dahlin. i got the full lips so i can do the blue steel pout *)