Wednesday, October 13, 2010

The peel blackens! Seal our porous border!

He whose name is not spoken in polite circles (a million praises to him and his eternal seed) has trouble sleeping. A dull--almost imperceptible--undercurrent of thought nudges him back into awareness every time he tries to drift into dreams. Thoughts about nothing.

Across town, two other souls, like him, have forgotten what it is to enjoy a nights sleep. Delusions of wealth keep them feverishly working into the small hours. The constant background hum of cooling fans is broken intermittently by furious keystrokes.

The Insignificant Aide, (curses unto her and her ignorant lot): Umm... Sire

He...: And what inane question do you have now, you unbelieving monkey-descendant?

IA: My Lord, I was wondering if I could take some time off to visit ...

He...: No.

IA: But...

He...: No.

IA: But my Lord, I have not seen them since your sent them across the great porous border; and I have been working long and hard for you for many years now; and.. and.. and... Look here, sire, I have callouses on my hands from....

He...: The answer is still no. And now that you have exhausted your vocabulary and all your logical reasoning faculties, why don't you get back to work, you peasant!

He whose name is never uttered goes back to his sleepless dreams.

IA looks for a soft pillow, one that can muffle screams well.