Wednesday, August 30, 2017


wife: no, couldn't be.

Mnuchin: yeah yeah, my little farecha, and there's more.

wife: please don't do anything rash. you can't leave me here! coins are useless, i need diamonds!

Mnuchin: see these three small people i've shoved from the back into your view? children with dirty hair and forlorn ears and forgotten faces? i'm turning their heads with my hand cos that's something adults do. these are my long-lost nephews. and now you are to take care of them. yeah yeah Bump signed the papers when he wasn't looking. they are your charge.

wife: no....................No..........................NO.........................NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Bump: hey Mooch, use the Gotham Crisper and see what you can do with these.

Mooch returns with Kodiak Cakes.

Mooch: they're cakes. that are waffles.

Bump: Palin country, nice. like the sentiment. and i'm not known for connection. they're chocolate Kodiak Cakes tho. can't really taste the wheat. buttermilk next time, you're not fired. hey Vlad, you're good at hunting people.

Putin: what did you have in mind?

Bump: track down the Powerball winner Mavis L. Wanczyk. i've got a rose for her. i'm getting back to my roots.

Putin: $759 million. she suddenly appeared on our radar for no reason. we'll use cryonis and magnesis and whatever else to find her.

Bump: that's lucky. i'm bored wirth this place. i'm on to jetting to Sur La Table.

Putin: come to Russsia. we have the original Round Table.

at FBI Headquarters at night. always at night.

Ashley Parker: Jim i'm leaving you.

James Comey: is this about my wife?

Ashley: no it's just you were an exciting fuck before but the shine has worn off. before it was hot to screw my dad but now you're an old man like my dad.

Jim: i cummed tho, right? i'm sure i did but i don't remember. i have it in my notes...

Ashley: it was fun to teach you all the positions but then it became my job. i already have a full-time job where i don't get any sleep.

Jim: reporters. they ask the tough questions. and answer them. love, the one mystery a G-Man Fed can't solve.

at the Kremlin Putin is fidgeting in his chair.

Putin: i can't seem to get comfortable.

Bump: perhaps it's your office, it's too gaudy.

Putin: no it's my desk. the seat of my chair has a ceratin groove carved in it that only a specific set of buttcheeks with the perfect dimensions can fit into perfectly. may i?

Bump relents and waves the way.

Ivanka steps up and sits in Putin's chair.

Putin: like magic! her beautiful ass is the match! and she already looks like a Russian princess. is that a tiara on your head?

Ivanka: headband.

Putin: can i keep her, Mick? please. pretty please with vodka-sugar on top? don't make me make the puppy-dog eyes. in Russia they are the Russian dog eyes, the wolf eyes.

Bump: i dunno. only if i get Katy Tur.

Putin: it's like pulling teeth this one.

Putin twirls Bump in his chair and extracts all of Bump's gold teeth using a dental drill Putin pulls out of his pocket in the back.

Putin: huh. i can still sense it. that didn't do anything.

at the weather channel Goody Paul is doing a remote location.

Goody: and here i am in the zone, in the groove. folks see all this sand on this bar here? the dune? yeah i saw folk scraping off the sand and putting it in white bags. don't dig here! you're making the problem worse! you cause unnecessary erosion that's not natural and then the hurricane comes ashore and causes more destruction cos you blew up the barrier. let's talk to this nearby local woman here. ma'am, what are you doing?

woman: collecting sand off this beach. i need it for my magic dust.

Goody: honey?

wife: what are you doing here?

Goody: TURN AROUND....don't drown...


Goody: you do? i gotta work. i will never be a heavenly body.

wife: why did you marry me?

Goody: you remind me of my ex-wife. what can i say? i can't help it, i love the witches.

wife: say it.

Goody: you cast a spell on me.

wife: i did didn't i. literally.

wife: wait if you're here, and i'm here, who's in the studio?

Conor McGregor receives a call at his cottage mansion.

Conor: aye.

Floyd Mayweather: you owe me all the money. you didn't make weight at our press conference. dems the deal. it's in your contract.

Conor: contract? i haven't even signed my papers. i lost ten pounds from the fright of looking at your ugly mug.

Mayweather: is that a root-beer insult? are you making fun of the fact that i like to drink root beer?

Conor hangs up.

Bump: when you're in NYC pick me up one of those sunbrellas, eh? that's something a sultan's servant would carry.

Putin: very good, sir. i can sense it starting to eyewall lightning.

Bump: quoth the Glen Raven? what do those symbolic zebra stripes mean? something spiritual?

Putin: perish the thought, master! you are not one for referees. let us away onward to Port Isaac for that egg divination?

Bump: we shall eat the local black cat.

Putin: we shall shallow toe to toe, link arms, and stand shoulder to shoulder with the people!

Bump: may the Pembroke berm dam broke!


the hooded figure floats on the pool of the site of their crushed monastery.

the hooded figure: i am not sinking but my spirits are. i get weaker by the thought. my children, you must carry on without me!

the Men From the East cry so much their eyes are boats on the waters of conscience.

the Men: never, giver! you go to glory despite us!

hooded figure: fear not, i'm keeping cool. there's always hope. how are the elephants doing? fed and bathed i hope?

Men: yess'im.

the horde of elephants are calm and passive after their rampage, as if they needed just that one outburst to let out all their lives' grievances and return to peaceful pasture. they are eating hay and soaking up the sun.

hooded figure: when it's time, when they fall into that gentle night, disturb not their dreamful rest. blandly use the Sword of Saad to scrape off what ails them. rub off any trinkets you find under their huge feet. turn them over first of course.

Men: yess'im. their toes are like white picket fences.

the Men with a light touch scrape off all the pennies they find under the elephants' feet and stuck in the slots between their toes.

hooded figure: smooth. i always appreciated these animals. i'll always gravitate towards the mild personality. come. let us dream together.

despite the haze of dusty rocks in the air, there's enough water for the hooded figure to lay on and retain an air of freshness for the Men to layer.

their sleep is long. and too short.

hooded figure: the pennies by themselves mean nothing. after all one penny is a void. but collectively the coins add up to more than gold stones. paper. paper to write on. where there is but one page of paper there is imagination. and lots of it. come. i am getting tired. but not sleepy. we must leave here. we must not live here anymore.

Men: the planet is dying.

hooded figure: no, it is our destiny to be more.

the Men use every fuel they can find, combining and cajoling the hot liquids, every mix and match, every permutation and derivation, smashing rocks into the rudiment with hammers to find gems and precious rocks and


hooded figure: it's not longitude and latitude, it's attitude. it's depth and atmosphere.

Men: we had a dream.

the Men build penny-farthing old-timey bicycyles one to a Man. each with a oversize wheel and undersize wheel as is the frame of the universe. one for each Man to ride. they even deposit the pennies in the spokes instead of traditional Magic cards cos they are trying to outgrow their childish impulses. one even inserts the Sword of Saad Itself into his spokes and gets burned.

hooded figure: one was burned so the other could have a torch. war is the sacrifice we don't see. we all war within ourselves. that is the obsession. let him light the way! ours is the future. i cannot handle the Sword. nor hold it.

the Men all hop onto their bicycyle seats and try to ride off like the wind into the sunset but only glance from the ground at the rainbows never getting off.

hooded figure: life is not like the movies. but it is like our dreams. try again. always try again. trial and error. we are the error on trial.

they try to shoot the Sword up in the sky to cut a cloud. they bury it like a fossilized bone.

hooded figure: flip me into the air. flick me up like a marble and let me land on the Sword like a skewer.

Men: what? we can't!

hooded figure: trust me.

Men: yess'im.

when the hooded figure is speared on the sharp point of the blade the figure turns into a golden wing glowing with spacedust. the wing flies to the outgrowth of bone on the wingless side of the horse. the horse is woken from her sleep by an outcropping of grass.

horse: what the...?

the Men agree.

the Men lock shouders. as do the spokes of their bikes. the entire mass of men and motors form into a giant shape, that of a blue whale. at first the horse is asked to pull the body.

horse: hell naw i ain't no beast of burden no mo! those days are through! the past is gone when will you people realize this? i'm magic now for a reason.

the whale-shaped mass pulls the horse along, motoring out of sight.

hooded figure: there you go. see? here we go. finally. not a moment too later. ready to launch. in 3-2-1...

horse: wait up, hold your horses! there's still the matter of the Sword of Saad.

Men: we can't have the whale swallow the Sword for safekeeping. it will become lost under its tongue.

the horse snarls and reluctantly picks up the Sword of Saad and holds it between her gleaming teeth. her ears perk down. her two tails grin like peanut butter.

they rocket into space further than their fanciest flight. far enough to catch the first gravitational train to their destination. on a trail of yellow.

the horse: i don't like having a bit. but whatever.

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