Cotard: what if...............it was all a dream?...............................just kidding.
Codrus: you're not far off.
a train comes barreling towards the two seekers. unnatural. with Soul Train
bounciness and smoke a new color no one has ever seen before.
Cotard grabs Moby's scope and looks out beyond the horizon into the deepest space. clouds are forming. the sky is the perfect Grey. he checks his watch for the scores:
there are no games being played today
Cotard: i don't need to check the weather. not digitally. i can rely on my Godgiven abilities. my face feels the raindrops before a computer ever could.
you can see the thunder crackling down in trifurcated tridents. the sound of the lightning booms and brays.
Codrus: oh don't bring pops into this. relie is more like it. i will be better. i am different. aren't you sick of waking up each day not knowing what the fuck you're doing? the big questions always swallow up the little ones. chili dog with jalapeno or green hot dog (green cos it's rancid), bowling alley or boudoir, gum or gun, job or joke, purpose or puff. no more. it finally ends here after eons of eternal inefficiency and ineffability. no more shouting at the wind, cursing the clouds, crying cracking till ducts turn to dust and go arid. and the silence, that silence which crushes ear canals and fills them with concrete cerumen. it's enough to make one burn the wood he was created with, shun that scalpel of a whittle, whistle into our coffins and lick the insides of our empty cornhusks when we're done eating, pasting them all over our bodies and replanting ourselves into the soil so that we might be grown again. this time we will get all the answers. mystery is one thing but this is murder. the questions were never meant to be answered until i came along and found the teachers' manual.
Cotard (takes a long breath which rifts into the universe and gives it a much-needed release): few! i need a break. i need to laugh.
Codrus: it's like those infomercials on tv. the annoying ones that replay every break. doesn't it seem like every week there's a new product? that's cos these products have exactly a one-week shelf life. if they don't hook you within that one week it's on to the next thing. all the paper orders turn over and split and the trucks haul something else next week. like your truth, you have it, you make it a product, and it instantly starts to lose value. you crack the truth and it falls and encircles your pan like a runny egg. it coalesces nicely and begins to harden. you smile as you sip up all the yellow gunk. but there was a bit of shell hidden in the white of the egg you never noticed as you downed it. your nose goes runny and you don't know why.
Codrus takes the Willow Curve and applies it around his hamsa. it doesn't work. it doesn't relieve any of his pain.
Willow from the movie Willow
pops his head out, takes a look around cutely, surveys and succumbs, sees that his time has come and gone, and with dignity and pride dances out of frame on his own two small feet.
Codrus: relive. that's a good sign. my energy is different.
Cotard: wrong shape. that has to be it. i mean if you can't trust a Ted you must trust a Chuck.
Imzhan takes a piece of uncooked bacon out of his pink case and snaps the case back without noticing he caught his penis in the middle. much pain. Codrus takes out a knife, his Miracle Blade, and halves into a hardboiled egg. the crumbly yellows falls to each side, leaving one half fallow. right down the middle. he gingerly puts the knife into his mouth, where the yellow has stuck on, and tongues it clean. despite his best efforts he ever so slightly nicks his teeth and grazes his throat and he starts bleeding internally. gold. Codrus then plants a crop of wheat and with a wave of his hamsa it turns to oafs of bread. he digs into the bread, burrows a hole inside, and rests. the three praying bums are wondering where the rain is coming from when they first spot the Grand Oak, it was hiding behind the clouds, no, it was hiding in plain sight as a cloud, the top fluffiness forms the leaves and the mighty trunk shows itself in the night sky, massive and metallic and gray.
Codrus: the Grand Oak. i've always had a thing for her. you shall be mine.
Codrus plants a flag in the surface of the new moon. he tries to behold his insignia on it but it can never materialize into any other color but white. no, that's not white, that's that indescribable color, a white mixed with a little black. he looks at his prized possession, the two stone tablets, still wet, the new Commandments, but all of his inscribed laws have been deleted with the click of a button. all that remains is
and punk stone is freedom---Kurdt
and YOUR VIEW HERE.
Codrus goes for the scope but it's taken. Sid, Glidden, and Rumi are holding it together, silently, invisibly. Codrus closes his eyes and opens them again. inscribed on the bifurcated stone is now just one line that spills across both tablets:
he takes the pole out of the flag and it turns into a penis which he places to his mouth.
Codrus: this microphone isn't phallic, it is in fact my penis. see? no more tricks, just crystal-clear crib notes from now on. i will make reality great again!
Josh Groban snatches the mic before Codrus can bloviate.
Codrus: i prefer command.
Josh Groban: *tap tap* is this thing on? why can't i sing? i can only speak? how ghastly is that! i can't live like this, what's the point of speech if it doesn't eventually become song?
Codrus: i gave you aphonia, dear boy, everyone knows that.
Codrus is holding with one hand while drawing lines in the sand with the finger of his other.
Codrus: H.G. Wells, Big Wars, i got the expansion pack.
the three remove Josh from the divine retribution of Codrus's strangling grip and massage the poor boy's neck back to health, shining his precious pipes with gold oil. they sense the ripples in the atmosphere and guide swaying outer-space rhythms back into their new instruments. they all play their dither instruments, which are a combination of the zither and their dongs. eventually they get the original
SONG BACK, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK
Josh Groban: i love that song. i still can't sing! maybe i just need to give my voice a rest.
at the football field Carl Sagan is explaining the cost-efficiency ratio of the onside kick. he loses his chalk in the grass. Codrus removes Sagan's football helmet and dons it himself.
Codrus: we can't see your face, professor. it's distracting to just hear a voice. only i have a head big enough to befit this helmet. please, go on.
Carl Sagan: what is a catch?
Codrus removes the right pole of the field-goal uprights which were once the moon flagpole. it forms into a trident. Codrus smiles devilishly. the top of the trident is a blivet. he inserts the blivet into his mouth to form his new dentures. he smiles gregariously and shows off his pearly whites. he plays the blivet denture harmonica with his tongue. the bleeding in his gums is gone. nicks nipped.
Codrus: it can't end, i won't let it end. i will temper the tempest of time. secure the sea of space.
Cotard: but mon frere, the ending gives it a beginning. breath is born of burden. it's within the limit that we are able to perceive the unlimited, within limits of course, out there, the truth, always just out of reach, beyond our scratching fingertips. sex is science. the notes leave but the nougat remains. we forget the lyrics but not the feel. music is melody. i was getting tired of that new-age off-beat trash rock with the screaming. deliberately disharmonic and off-kilter, off-rhythm and out of sync. if you're not gonna do something nice do nothing at all. i'm all for guttural, and garage, but not gutter. i crave the simplicity of silence. otherwise it's just one big giant gooseegg we've laid. death describes destiny. life lines love. my coat is catholic with a cut c. the top line is, we are here to be rekt. for all of us there must be a reckoning.
Codrus is about to turn the microphone into his middle finger to give Cotard a universal flick-off but Wolf stops him, putting his hairy palm over the god's finger.
Wolf: ain't nobody tryna see that. that is legit rude, man.
Codrus: i really want to punch you right now.
the two cats crawl up into Cotard's lap, flanking him each side, licking his face to oblivion. MEANWHILE Codrus places Cotard on his lap and spanks him.
Cotard (licking his cats back): my chili homedogs! i love you both! my beautiful kittycats! my beautiful beautiful kittycat family! i give up love of myself so i can give it to you two equally. no, no, don't go over to that multicolored bridge, stay here, always stay here with pop.
Codrus takes out the left pole of the uprights (it's all one pole, just bifurcated), and uses it to repair the broken golden lever of the last train car. the train zooms right into the tunnel.
Fuerza: all my friends are dying. friendless Fuerza. everyone's getting old. it's depressing. sure Monica is monied and Mary is a man, but Nancy broke her noggin and Patricia has pnemonia. i can't visit them all, the roads are blocked. i get so many offers for money. i give to St. Jude's but there are as many cancer charities as atoms. have i done enough? did i give up too soon? i would make the call but the lady on the phone was rude. you waste more energy being nasty than being nice. takes more breaths. Miss Fuerza if you're nasty. where's my food? i slaved over a hot stove all these years, you should feed me now. you can learn a thing or pi from me, mijo.
Codrus: there's a clock on the stove. yes, you were telling me these past two thousand years about the difference between men and women. and the races. and genders. and cultures. and animals. which makes no sense cos we all have the same alien DNA.
Fuerza: it's complicated but we are all different. we must be treated as such.
Cotard: we are all brothers and sisters but i only have one sister. i made the hardboiled eggs for the week and she ate them all on Wednesday. that's a lot of work and i did it to save time. to no avail. but she deserves to eat well. she deserves whatever she desires.
Codrus: can't we all just get on? with it?
Codrus transforms into Oprah Winfrey.
Codrus: wow, this is different. but the same. i have a sudden craving for bread, stress-free bread that i can eat daily and not gain weight. i suddenly care deeply about my weight.
Cotard: you're gonna carry that weight. it's impossible to understand someone if you aren't them. you can't make policies for them. write for them. you can't understand the vile prejudices and sadistic slander they've endured until you take a long sniff of their shoes. outside of the bowling alley. a whiff so hard it's wet.
Codrus: i know, that's why i'm doing this. i'm not doing this for my mental health. i see now. i see how all commercials these days are mildly misandric and anti-white. well who cares?! suck it up! you had centuries to grow and now you're dying. front of house ain't free no mo', privilege has a price that persists.
Codrus frames his face with his two hands forming a curve with his fingers under his chin.
Codrus: this is how women do it, right?
a man in a long studious red robe peers out from the horizon. ascetic and able. his mind is on fire, literally. he has a monk's mustache but a playboy's puss. keeps the dirty jokes to himself and his son. Scorpio scofflaw sexuality. harnessing hormones with homo erectus. made of salt, not clay. he carries the first edition of his book and a typewriter suitcase. he is the Master of the World. he takes one look at Cotard and nods his head. he is gone before Cotard can thank him.
Cotard (under his lips): thanks, dad.
the Grand Oak from whence all blessings flow, as well as the upside-down rain, starts spraying milk. Codrus collects the sacred milk into a baby bottle and forces Cotard to suck it down.
Codrus: look at me when you're sucking. look at my eyes. there, there, baby, pop will take care of everything. you look upon my huge face of presence as a baby does his parent's face, as if it is the very face of God *hahahahahahahahahaha*
Cotard (chugging): i don't care how uncomfortable this is, this milk is SOOOOOOOO good.
the milk turns to red.
Codrus: wine. right on cue.
Cotard: no, darker. soy sauce.
Codrus: got it. i'm multicultural, baby. AZN, right?
Cotard: no, blood. congealed dark blood.
a phoenix flaps its ashing wings, leaving feathers everywhere.
the blood drips alongside Codrus's arm, the side where there should be no vein but there is.
Codrus: ah, it is red. this means i'm an Indian now. i may dispense with the pleasantries and not wear the headdress or do the mouth thing. i'll keep the hatchet though, got some ratchet to cut. i feel their plight, i'm in their feet. something to do with baseball. football. sportsball?..........................you know, i think i'll just stick with being Oprah for now, the most powerful being in the universe.
Cigarette Smoking Man (after a puff): take it from the most dangerous being in the universe, what you are doing is folly. the people out there don't believe in God. they believe in Steven Universe.
Codrus: behold! no, seriously, look. look at Moby's final train car with the one triangular step in the back. wha? it's not there anymore, heh heh. what happened to it, heh heh. it's on the back of the train scalding towards you for the past two thousand years.
the wheels on the train do go round and round but they are rimy with frost.
Cotard: that reminds me of a rhyme. the wheels on the bus go round and round. round and round. that's it. round and round, perfect rhyme. perfect round.
Cotard takes a coin minted from 100% the Stones out of his invisible frock and places it on the railroad track.
Cotard: i hate handling money. i can do this cos i'm the richest being in the universe.
the train hits the coin on the track and explodes. but the train reverts and turns into an elephant. the coin turns into a mouse and scares the giant grey powerful pachyderm with the tail in front. the elephant elechants and turns into the Elephant's Trunk Nebula. then the train turns into a tardigrade and the coin turns into a tardigrade and the two butt heads. then they bump uglies.
then the train turns into the Starship Enterprise...
Cotard: where no one has gone before...
Codrus: man, man, not one.
they're in a flying fortress which acts as the stage. the soundstage to a taping of The Cosby Show
. the first-season theme plays. the Statue of David is there amongst the tall houseplants, the real David, not a model. David slices himself down the middle leaving only his bottom half. Codrus tries on the Cosby sweater but it itches horribly. rash. hives. hides. Cotard plays Dr. Huxtable's friend from the gym. see, Dr. Huxtable is hiding his potato chips and pudding pops from Clair in his space room downstairs. the Starship Enterprise is a model that hangs on a wire in the room. the contraband is stashed in a compartment that is accessed by opening up the head of the ship. the room is lit with stars.
Cotard: i suppose i'll take it. so why are we in this weird room, Dr. Huxtable? and you still owe me ten reps.
Codrus: shhhh, keep it down, man *canned laughter* i'm tryna lose weight here, man. i'm hiding this food from Phylicia Rashad. she still thinks i eat ten rice cakes a day. Ahmad Rashad and i have a deal, as long as i get my food, we're cool, ya catch my drift? *canned laughter*
Cotard: mmm, mmm, mmm, i'm a man of the cloth, but mmm mmm mmm that Lisa Bonet. *whoo! sound* makes me want to pick up a galactic guitar.
Codrus drops to his knees on stage.
Codrus (wearily): i'm losing a lot of blood.
Cotard: see that blood out there? from the tree? that's your blood eviscerating all across the cosmos. *canned laughter*
Cotard opens his mouth and *canned laughter* emits out.
Codrus: when does it stop being funny?
Cotard: you tell me.
Codrus: it doesn't. never will. i answered my own question. people will always need a laugh. no matter what. no matter if it's hearty or heinous.
Codrus collapses in a heap. a pile of puddles.
Codrus (disembodied voice): see? you can never win. who's on that train? it's you, dear Cotard. it was you this whole time. i've won. done like dinner. you were late. you are not steering this train. you are riding it. and you don't know where it is going. you don't know its final destination. the tickets have all been tore up. the train just keeps going going going going. crazy. forever. never stopping. never resting. no explanation, no answers, cos there is no conductor. he's too busy with other matters. rather like hell, or heaven, same thing. as for me on the other side, i have seen the other side. i have seen the other side of the Big Bang. i have seen the end which is the beginning which is the end. admittedly very scary without a time machine. i have created new worlds where there are no humans, just globs of goo with eyes and their brains in their butts. my outer space is green, not black. like the comics. i've invented the blanet, which is a planet with its own blanket to keep warm.
Cotard (trying to ease the tension) (to himself): how very Swedish of you. are you sure you don't mean yanket?
Codrus: the universe is my own etch-a-sketch, it's my puzzle and i have the whimsy puzzle piece that is shaped like the infinity symbol.
Cotard: the key word being like.
Codrus: sure, it's nice when you're riding a train on a warm romantic afternoon and you stick your head out and the breeze nicks your lip and catches your breath. but now you are entering a tunnel. a tunnel of interminable length, width, heighth, soundth, and depth. and that other dimension. you will not reach your terminal. you will ride the black. there is no lightning. this is the fate of you and your old guard. this is you, you in the darkness for all of eternity.
YOU ARE DERANGED, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK