by James Green-Armytage
The President of the United States was festering deep in the hall of giants. He said: “Damn, I’ve had it with everything! I’ve had it with the creeping crawling dandelion spiders weaving their webs in the corner of my office. I’ve had it with the whitewashed Democrat policy which encourages bone-draining for the purpose of radiation-energy. I’ve had it with sticky claws which claw me while I sleep and dream in my underland of grasping pale green faces eager with suffering. I’ve had it with hot dogs and candy which are made of pig genitals and cocaine. I’ve had it with my unusual tendency to vomit uncontrollably on national television. I’ve had it with the pressures of success, I’ve decided to finally lose this evil game and live my life as a limping bum pursued by the policedogs and tenfoot sharpteeth bankers. They’ll force me to eat nuclear waste garbage and I’ll develop nine forms of cancer and drip with blood. I’ll fall down in alcoholic sewers with two glass eyes and a transcendent insight into the substance of pain.”
The vice president came into the office with a stick. “If you won’t
be President, you’ll be slime!” He bashed the President in the stomach with
the stick. The President doubled over and said “hee hee hee” and crawled out
the window breaking glass and falling to the ground.
Aristocratic people walked by on stilts. The President went straight to
the Okie Joe Saloon and bought a pint of monkey drink with eyeballs. Loud
shouting prostitutes battled it out for supremacy of the Round Table. A man
named Pat Sajak was sitting next to the President at the bar and said to him
that the structure of the garbage pile system could be changed. But the
President informed him sadly that the creature of capitalism had spread through
everything like the greatest octopus vine, too great and immovable to be stopped
from devouring the living organism of the world. Pat Sajak wriggled and shimmied
and growled with disapproval. The bartender brought him a liquid-Jeffrey-drink.
Pat Sajak cried about his wife who had sold their baby to a dogfood company. He
drank and danced a little jig and giggled about the funniness. He swayed about
and went off with one of the prostitutes.
The President turned up his collar and walked out into the cold. The sun was down and the citynight glowed with a mysterious beauty. Looking down any street all the lights converged into a womblike paradise of connectedness. The darkness and the unlimited open sky promised that the secret of sudden salvation was somewhere not far off.