FOR A SUN: MENAGERIE

Lieu, dead to this world, wakes up, rubbing the sediment from his eyes.

Madchen: patched in?

Lieu fumbles with his phone but not really. he's amazed at how adept he is, the tiny apple machine is an extension of his hand, the words he types longer fingers.

Lieu: threeway?

Madchen: i prefer Comcast business-ready. on the call, honey? hey you aren't having sex with that poor girl are ya?

Hartwin: course not, why would you ask such a thing! i'm not embarrassed cos it's impossible. take a look at that violet sky.

Madchen: beautiful. so glad i came out of the cave i was in.

Lieu: i can't quite fit it all into my viewfinder.

Hartwin: keep looking up. beyond. see where it becomes cerulean. then beyond still. it doesn't turn black, it just loses color. keep imagining beyond. and beyond that. there's nobody up there. never was. nobody up there who can help us. but it's okay. there's nothing to fear. for as you can see, it is the sky.

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at their first official joint press conference, Hilary finds herself overshadowed by the sexy-as-fuck Pope and is thinking this may be a problem down the road. it's one thing to not be trusted but charisma doesn't grow on trees. at least not yet. she takes one last crack of the bat before everyone really starts to pivot.

Hilary: so, as i was saying...is this thing on? *loud scream* ho, it's too on! anyway, Murica, rest assured, i know how responsibility is spelled. i take the decision to send in our terrorists to combat their terrorists with a serious heart. always know that i have my eye on the ball.

the Pope bends over to pick up her pointing stick and proceeds to give the national traffic report.

Pope: racism? not genetic. learned. and we better unlearn it quick or we will destroy ourselves. only room for extinction when debate has been extinguished. not a political issue. or a religious one. a space one. the folly of separate but equal. neighborhoods. dividing lines. men create maps, land is land. no races if we don't want them to be. all color is one color. we thought for centuries this would work out but it turns out humans are just stupid. like, we actually are pretty dumb. we think we know things we don't know. we harden our positions cos we can't read. we can't soften our fire cos we're thirsty. we oppose cos it's fun. we secretly want everyone to fail, not just the big banks. sure, anarchy is cool on a punk flag but i don't think you'd like it if we really were in anarchy. it's not all cowboy boots, dusty-green 10/6-gallon hats, noon duels for show, cheating at poker cos the only game you know is go-fish, and fucking Mae Western, uh, Mae West.

Hartwin: wish i would have thought of that. (Hartwin is still at the base.)

the Pope disrobes and stands in front of the flashing cameras completely elegantly nude, like a female Michelangelo. what Michelangelo really wanted to sculpt.

Hilary: not good. she already has more power than me. church is global, countries are losing borders. is it too late to unlock Bernie out of the bathroom?

the crowd all look at Hilary, which is impossible given the naked circumstances.

Hilary: this thing is still on?

_________________________

Bump settles on his tweet for the night:

Bump: um, yeah, just use that George Carlin quote about golf courses. we off.

__________________________

Lysander on the phone: ma'am, i'm afraid i can't help you right now, i have a backlog......of your previous calls i have to get to. you're a dude? i am so sorry. you have no gender? okay but remember you are still a person. never lose sight of that. you're worried about your cats. you see them on your midnight drink run at the kitchen walking upright staring at the open refrigerator door. no, rest assured they see the milk behind the pickles, they're just cooling off. too much sun is a bad thing. they reach with their arms and legs upstretched at you. that's beautiful. especially in these times. they want you to give them the Superman hug. go for it, animal affection is pure. oh i see, they have sharp nails so the hug hurts. love hurts. you can't stand hearing the nails on the linoleum as they stomp around the floor? it's pitiful to see them helpless with long nails, needing human help? well cut them. kden. no, the nails, never cut the cats out of your life, you'd be doomed. it's alright, if you're busy, which everyone seems to be, for what reason the stars know, the cats can cut them themselves.

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the zoo, part of the larger wild wilderness park reserve, is the staging ground for a turning point. Bump assembles his men, pitifully many from the Fight Night folks, all gathering on the monkey bars. the monkeys, especially the lifelike apes, are not amused.

Bump: i am oft-criticized but never equaled. look up into the sky, men. you see that? we are under the auspices of a great leader. i follow him. he has our best interest at heart. finally we gaze upon the one person who we knew deep down was the only cure we need. we don't have to pretend anymore. we don't have to be disparate. and desperate. we can come together as one body, the body we know, the body we inhabit, and attack the virus that has been cluttering our brain.

Hartwin emerges like a seal from the water.

Hartwin: equaled? you, sir, are as old as the messy dirt in this koi pond.

the koi say nothing but their smug expressions, arms crossed, acting coy.

Bump gives his famous exasperated i-can't-believe-i-have-to-deal-with-this-douche rolling-of-the-eyes frogmouth look.

Bump: dirty water everywhere, messing with our minds. get 'em, men!

Hartwin: wait, wait, it's a good thing my phone is waterproof cos i want to show the animals and maybe some of your men hanging on a shred of conscience this video. you're gonna have to pick off some from the other side to win generally. from the Fight Night insta, does everyone know how you pay the bills? this conglomeration you recently purchased, ol' Mick? look at this filth. not only do you revel in shredding the fabric of society altogether, that's not polite, but you look to the horrors of nature as inspiration. you broadcast fights in nature, lions vs bulls, hyenas not laughing when they go against yakkity yaks who do talk back, eagles poking at snakes, shark vs shark. ARE YOU RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!!!??? are you the same guys who set this up, pitting beast vs beast and pitching your tripod salivating at sating your bloodlust? deplorable!!! THIS is what broke the camel's back. you will pay for THIS. animals are one thing, but not animals.

the images are spread throughout the entire zoo from a specially-maneuvered Harfi drone. the alligators, incensed, use their trapjaw teeth to chew through their cages, even the cages with rubber bars that are just for show as an entertainment area. elephants rampage out of the palm trees and step on unsuspecting but foolish humans. a kinkajou slaps one of the enemy soldiers in the face with her tail. then she slaps him in the butt. and high-fives Hartwin.

kinkajou: i'm kinky.

the flamingos sweep Hartwin away to a safe area behind the abandoned ransacked owner's castle. where they don't miss tea time no matter what and amidst the battle provide the napkins for a leisurely afternoon of kake gohan and French 75.

Hartwin: delicious. compliments to the chef. what are male flamingos called?

flamingos (dabbing their beak edges with their napkin): how do you know the chef was a man? flamingos are flamingos, gender-neutral. when you first heard of food, it was your mother who served you, right? when did it become vogue for men to cook?

Hartwin: does this mean i'll grow up big and strong like Gohan? i always liked Gohan, he was filled with even more innocent wonder than Goku.

flamingos: afraid we haven't the slightest what the hell you mean.

Hartwin: thanks for the grub, yeah whomever. gotta go. kinda busy.........then again, maybe i'm not always so busy.

flamingos: right. fancy Harry Potter?

Hartwin: uh, sure.

flamingos: we're more Ron men. Ron gets shafted in the end and that's terribly unfair. that weaselly Harry.

so Hartwin and the pink birds take slow long-legged leaps haughtily, upper-crustingly

TOURING THE AQUARIUM, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

hands and feet are being trampled. on both sides. rivers are being pounded into waves. leaves are shaking like a leaf. even some errant bombs go off. or at least some wet firecrackers.

Codrus: i'm in your ear.

Bump: it's finally happened. i've gone crazy. i'm hearing voices. don't let the electorate know. smile when you don't know a question and defer to your VP pick.

Codrus: no you idiot, it's me. in your ear. if you took more Stones we could communicate telepathically, but it's dangerous for mere mortals blah blah blah. tolerance is the key.

Bump: yous. boss, it's million-minion mayhem overs here. melee, but it's not safely on my screen. it's scary up close. the other side came into some new men.

Codrus: just hold them off a little longer. hold the line like usual. my plan is in motion. soon that Hartwin kid will be felled by the sharpest sting: betrayal.

_______________________

Fall In: and welcome back. wow, nice rowdy bunch here for a late-night show taped in the afternoon. is that real applause i hear? huh, same writers. did you guys get into the Match Game stash? it's the back half of the show no one watches so let's try to push through here. joining me on my couch is none other than 18-time Grand Slam champion Roger Federer!

*polite applause* *following the flashing APPLAUSE sign*

Federer: i've been sitting here the whole time. for 30 minutes. they wouldn't let me into the greenroom, said i was a bad influence. you could have at least offered me some of that Girl-Scout cookie pie Ramsay whipped up in the cooking segment.

Fall In: how did it feel to win Wimby once again? we all saw you winning it, we all saw that.

Federer: i'm announcing right here and now for the first time ever, you, Jimmy, are the first to know...........i am retiring.

*unawkward silence*

*the crickets are at the zoo*

Federer: there's one more thing to do before i go. i want to play Serena Williams. doesn't everyone want to see that? just to see, you know. what would happen. and this ain't no exhibition. both of us will be gunning for each other, full strength. 100 mph serves. like it were the Wimbledon finals.

Fall In: what's next for you, champ? oh sorry, got my cards mixed up. joining us to discuss the passing of Snoop Dogg is the greatest athlete of the world now, Mike Tyson!

Mike Tyson takes down the entire blue curtain as he lumbers into the studio and sits on Federer.

Mike: a distinguished gentleman gangster. he taught us all about cards and orange juice. he was the nicest rapper of all time. he was going to appear on my animated adult-swim comedy a second time as a springboard to his own spinoff. but alas, adult swim did not listen to the fans before it was too late. may he rest in power of pussy and pot.

Fall In: what happened to your lisp?

Mike: oh, shit.

____________________________

at the carwash Madchen spies a seated heavyset woman following a green sedan on the conveyor belt.

Madchen: hello there.

Pinguis: you talkin' to me?

Madchen: why yes. Lysander's patient. i never forget a, well. reference. amazing to find you here.

Pinguis: it's okay, you don't have to feign friendship. but it's good to know politeness is still faked. yeah the doc ran me an errand so i decided to take the opportunity to finally get clean. as in he ran me out to do his errand. can't fit in my shower. you must think me pitiable.

Madchen: oh no. i notice, so i'm nice. i'm so tired because i keep struggling on. i'm so sick of society i don't care anymore so i'm in my natural human form. i'm the last of a dying breed, much like that car the good doctor still lugs around which must be older than even he is. and he tells me i'm the afraid one. now who's scared of change?

Pinguis: this time the change is bad. you can smell it, sense it in the air. i feel it in all my folds so i really feel it. it's different this time, it's more..........final. that car barely runs on the hoverroads, it could use new tires.

Madchen: an obsolete machine on a new track. the air is above the tires instead of in them. why just this morning a used-car salesman tried to sell me four tires. for my hovercar. you have to wonder sometimes what comes first, the stereotype or the behavior. oh well, all that waiting-around time i was able to watch the Pope's address. did you see it? magnificent.

Pinguis: i wrote that speech. those words. i have a lot of ideas but no one takes me seriously. i've written a lot of things and come up with new words and quotes and sayings that i don't get credit for. net neutrality. by the time the wikibot drones come for what's on my private phone, it's already lost on some wikipedia link farm and the references are forever jumbled and attributed to someone else. more famous. prettier. i am the only soul who has ever existed in which if you type my name you will get no image results at all.

Madchen: that could come in handy actually. machines are fickle. unfortunately. i'm glad to have you on the team. i need all the help i can get. support for my exhausted butt. no such thing as too many friends. a friend is an enemy blah blah blah. welcome aboard!

Madchen extends her hand to Pinguis, a gesture the obese woman has never seen.

Pinguis: thought you were gonna throw something at me for a second.

it's hard for her to breathe but Pinguis manages an unsure toothy grin.