(Don't) Wake me up before you pass out

M (also know as Dr. T, praise be unto his eternal seed) is content. He reflects on a life well lived. As the approaching light becomes brighter and hazier, he hears soothing music. A melody he has not heard before, but one that makes his heart sing.

M: " Goodbye, pleasant world."


Meanwhile, his Insignificant aide (also known as Ia, may a billion curses of fire unto her wretched offspring be!) almost falls off her chair. She has been feeling drugged ever since that infernal afternoon meal.

Ia: "Why the hell did I eat that shit?! oohhh... my stomach doesn't feel so good anymore. oohh.."

M: "Quiet! you two-pence whore. Let me pass on without your complaints."

Ia: " Apologies, sire...."

M: "..."

The music turns shrill, and the distant whine grows more menacing. M, waiting for the endless sleep, jumps four feet in the air and crouches under the white leather couch just as the vacuum cleaner nearly rips the hide off his tail.

Unprocessed

It looks old and mysterious. A small, dark disk, with spiral patterns.

Insignificant aide (also known as Ia, curses unto her and her ignorant lot): "Ooooh! It must be old"

M (Also known as Dr. T, Praise be unto him and his divine seed): "How do you know?"

Ia: "God must have created it"

M: "God is great. He does not have to create anything"
Ia: "But she must have created it because she wanted to, not because she needed to"
M: "God is great. He has no gender"
Ia: "All right. It must have created it, then"
M: "..."
Ia: "Can we eat it now?"
M: "God cannot be eaten"
Ia: "How do you know so much about God?"
M: "It says so in The Book"
Ia: "Oh."

Long pause.

Ia: "Look, theres a book"
M: "Its not The Book"
Ia: "Who wrote The Book?"
M: "Nobody"
Ia: "Is it a printed book, then?"
M: "Yes"
Ia: "Does it have sharp corners?"
M: "God does not have corners"
Ia: "What do we chew on, then?"

Longer pause.

Ia: "Look! Its moving!. Oh no! The window is open!"
M: "God does not... what window!??! Oh F*&%$!!"

The beetle spreads its wings and flies out the window.

Dinner has left the building.

Ia: "Oh well. Hey, theres another small, old looking thing! Ooooh! It must be old. God must have created it"
M: "God is great. He does not have to create anything"
Ia: "Looks like poop, actually"
M: "What looks like poop?"
Ia: "That thing. over there"
M: "God does not create poop"
Ia: "Why not? does it not eat?"

Kettle starts to whistle.

M and Ia run for cover.

M: "Phew! Must've been the devil's handiwork"
Ia: "Must have"

Long pause.

Ia: "Ooooh!...Look."

lawful Intercept

(Stoli + Rose's Grenadine + Rose's lime juice)

Dance of Death

P flits around the land, here now, there tomorrow, back here again the next week.

As mortals grow older, celebrate life and its steadily approaching debilitation and end, P celebrates with them, but answers a higher calling, drifting through space but steady in time, like a cork waiting in a river.

It is Him

M (also known as Dt. T, praise be unto him), has a vision. It is a beautiful Sunday evening, as M seeks a shelter and food. As his stomach leads him to wondrous places, his eyes catch sight of an unassuming figure leaning against a lonely tree. A couple of young ones play around him with the golden light of a fading day diffusing in their locks. They play in the shade of his presence, never looking towards him, but always knowing they are safe.

M does not recognize the figure, but is drawn to the sight with an instinctive tingle. The cloth might be poor, but the wearer is not. M looks into his eyes.

M knows.

The world is quiet for a moment.

M knows.

M nods.

It is him. It is him.

It is the Lord of the Fruit.

To Brea or not to Brea

M (also know as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his immortal seed) moves uneasy this evening. He cannot see Brea (also know as B, whose name, it is said, was spoken by the Mother herself in the early ages) but he senses her presence. She whispers not a breath, but M knows she rests in the damp depths that light rarely sees.

Mr. Hyde?

Its is a long day, a day whose memory shall be immortal.

M (also known as Dr. T, praise unto him be) ascends from the blue smoke, a proud countenance.

M: " Henceforth, I shall have two faces."

His Insignificant Aide (Ia, curses unto her immoral soul) gasps. The sight is breathtaking.

Ia: "gasp!"

Clear as the afternoon sky, M has two faces.

Oman Atna Ug. X-Ray vision for all.

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto his God-fearing soul that bows to no one but the one just God who hates the hippie- liberal- homosexual- abortionist- atheist- man- from- ape- baboons and the unbelieving heathen billions out east that are destined for limbo despite their conservative- heterosexual- pro- life- fundamentalist- man- from- pixie- dust- death- to- all- infidel beliefs) is hungry.

His stomach growls as he mutters choice obscenities under his breath.

It should be the law, he thinks to himself. It should be the law of the land, the law of God even, that food should be offered to him and his lot before the sun is nigh.

The infidels hide in the dark. He knows they pretend to sleep, to not exist. He knows of their lies, deceit and their empty, Godless souls; he has seen their axis of evil.

Ia (Insignificant aide, curses onto her ignorant lot), meanwhile, lacks the high moral fiber that she so desperately needs to aid digestion.

Ia: " Why not that bowl over there on the counter top, Sire?"

M snickers over his growling stomach.

M: " Harrumph!... you two-pence whore. You touch that bowl and the infidels have already won. That is what they want of you, debauched woman!."

Ia: " Sire.. I was only concerned about your well-being. We are starving, O esteemed leader!. Maybe we should call out to them, maybe they will feed us."

M: "Starving? pshaw!! Can not you see that we are overfed, you fat cow?! Did not not see the large sign that proclaimed "DINNER ACCOMPLISHED" about three days ago?. Do you not believe in Him?. If you don't believe in Him, you are his enemy, you bag of filth."

Ia: "..."

Ia: " Yes sire. I see it!! I see it now. Dinner accomplished. Your greatness, I no longer feel hunger. In fact, your esteemedness, I no longer feel my stomach or my toes. Hallelujah!! Praise be to him!!."

M: "Him? Who him?"

Ia: "You, your Majesty."

M: "Oh, him."

Blue Label

The passage of time has been dimmed by the years gone by, but the warm, heavy, air awakens M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him). Nothing has changed. The roiling clouds tear the sunshine to to shreds, and the heat seems to rise from the very bowels of hell.

Fan: "Nice shirt, man. Where'd you buy it?"

M: "Oh. Yeah. this one. yeah..."

Let there be a thousand words

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his seed) watches the afternoon waste away into an uneasy Sunday evening . The cycle repeats, week after fleeting week whose brevity belies an endless life, just like the warm desert afternoon withers into the chill of a starry night, only to reveal another sunrise.

M is beyond cycles. M has no beginning, nor has he an end.

M is.

M: "..."

His Insignificant Aide (also known as Ia, curses unto her and her ignorant lot) too is beyond worldly cycles. Just as soon as she can get to this juicy hummingbird.

Cluster two

uhluhtC stirs. In his own words:

uhluhtC languishes on the Eastern shores, biding his time. For his time will come. When He shall return to reclaim what is rightfully His. But for now He sleeps. And He languishes. And He curses. Terrible, unspeakable invocations that if felled upon a mortal's hearing would drive him to madness.

Cluster One

The evil Dr. R (Also known as uhluhtC, upon whose name darkness feeds) lies shrouded in the steamy lands lands beyond the eastern sea. All is forgotten for a while, and the earth trudges on. As the rivers flow through long days, however, there is talk of his numerous insidious shapes seen in the woods at twilight, of missing sheep, and of the unmistakably large proboscis. Hushed voices tell stories of old that seem to feed his power, and a sense of quiet panic builds in the valley like a slow fog on a summer night.

The night impends.

uhluhtC dreams.

unluhtC rises.