Friday, December 2, 2011

Trust? (The Gorton's Fisherman)

“When you’re alone & life is making you lonely you can always go..Downtown.” – Petula Clark

Everyone likes to forget all their troubles & forget all their cares, & since I’m one of everyone (kinda sorta), I decided to take a trip down the rabbit hole.  I’m sorry, did I say “down the rabbit hole”? I meant “downtown”.  Of course, the bus stops service up the street ‘round six to nine evenin’, ‘en so?  Since it’s currently ‘bout four-twenty mornin’, I’m gonna need a special tokin’.  Good thing I’ve got one left then, idn’it?

She’s a cold one out there, so I put on my pooka-skin babushka & headed out for the wormhole.  I’m sorry, did I say “wormhole”? I meant “bus stop”.  Caught route 2.2 right on time.  Took my place with the troublemakers at the back of the bus.

Gotta love the bumpy ride and the surrealistic view out the big windows. I feel like a god with no control, looking at the creation of what I’ve created. My stomach is sickened and my prostrate is stimulated.  If I had three hands, I’d stick one finger down my throat & another up my ass, while I toss a load in my puke.  I feel alive.  I’m sorry, did I just say that?

“In the fullness of another world, there is no emptiness.” – Blue Oyster Cult

As the bus dissipates upon arrival, I stand alone in the dreamscape.  You know how that goes: everything isn’t like anything, but it’s all the same, just different.  It was there that I recognized the man in the rain-slicked yellow coat: the motherfucking Gorton’s fisherman.  My newfound friends warned me about him, but since I’m growing my winter beard, I thought we could all just get along.  I was wrong.

“Hey man, in what kinda choppy waters do you catch minced fish?”, I say. At the mere mention of minced fish, his eyes rose & glared into mine, glowing the hellish emptiness of a hollow soul.  He cold-cloca’d me in the kung-fu parking lot.  He dragged me into the alley behind Sly’s Midtown Saloon & attempted to sodomize me.  Science be praised for the lakeside chill that snapped me out of my violent slumber.  It was then that I saw the horror, with the echoes of friendly warnings echoing in my throbbing skull.

He wore nothing under the raincoat, which he spread open before me like an angry god parts an ocean.  I aimed my stunned gaze at an ocean of ice-cold hairy wrath.  His beard was replicated on his chest, squirming nipples stuck out, waving & squirming like milky worms.  His beard was replicated once again upon his groin, gross genitalia writhing out at me with an air of angry arousal, an uncircumcised cock of uncut calamari, with a beak-like helmet oozing the black ink of joyless insatiable satyriasis.

“The horror, the horror.” - Colonel Kurtz

“I fall off the edge of my mind.” – Britney Spears.

To be continued..