CRACK NOT ADDICTIVE

Author:

John Blackmer <blackmer@course1.harvard.edu>

Date:1996/01/04

Forums:alt.discordia, alt.slack

 

The cans of tuna singing their wafty tinkles over the lavender air,

whining in the sparkle of dawn's brickles... Oh what gusto I must have

for a can of tuna, stealing it from under my armpit as I sneak down the

aisle, the Barbie Thunderbirds looking down at me quizzically from their

shelves. I wink at the guy behind the electronics counter and hand him a

five zillioner of Nik Fiend Funny Money. He faints and wins the

Publisher's clearing House Sweepstakes, which come to your door bearing

coupons and tv cameras and myrrh and good cheer, causing you to grow fat

and happy of the land of your ancestors, my ancestors the land of which

is this labyrinth of Blue Lights Specials some call K-mart, some call

Walmart, some call Dorchestermart or Bradlees, there are many names for

these tunnels of savings, and few return to the sunlit lands. Last night

I dreamt that as the Great Old Man Who Slumbers Beneath The Floor Tiles,

who has twelve eyes disguised as decorative glittery globes, who has a

thousand fingers and a thousand silver hairs are in his beard, began to

stir gently in his sleep, and have a more pleasing dream. And all the

sleepers numbly walking the aisles looking for savings began enacting a

new play. And instead they began to remove one the other's clothes and

make love beneath the flourescents, the tune of the Muzak guiding their

calm tender motions. And they cast their baskets of goods aside, and

the costumes of their former roles, and made a joyful noise unto the Lord.

And when I woke from this dream I was back on the grid, still pinned

under stars. But out of my corner I catch the eye of a dumpy hausfrau and

she says to me "young man" and I say to her "Madam" and in mute agreement

she takes me to a new trailer park...

 

In the Name of Merry Christmas, and the purity of our natural bodily fluids,

Amen.

-Icarus Damocletian QPM

 

P.S. That guy from that movie, with the machine gun and the cigar, is

still my Personal Saviour, and I know that's probably against the rules,

but fuck the law, I WANT MEAT! I only wish I were a general in the US

Army, I'd teach that OJ Simpson a lesson! Children's ice cream?