Universe A versus universe B

In my younger and more vulnerable years,

I plagiarized words

& Afterwards

a brain worm ate into my mind,

pressing on the depression neurons, attempting to initiate my suicide,

so I incessantly consumed poison and injected pesticides ,

Becoming addicted to near death experience in a frivolous attempt to purge the suicidal memetic virus.

I hired a black market nurse,

She was unqualified.

The worm, fearful and trying to survive burrowed itself deeper into subconsciousness,

Forcing me to overdose,

Ending my existence for a precariously lasting moment of time,

causing the simultaneous suffocation of the parasitic invasive alien,

freeing my mind from suicidal depression.

Before my resuscitation,

I encounter

a burning light,

radiating heat,

buzzing with sound waves,

rhythmic as though breathing

For the entire universe.

The light contracts ,

As though

taking a deep breath.

On exhalation the light burst into ubiquitous sparks,

Illuminating space with precipitating lightning,

That travels perpetually forward,

swirling around one another,

In spiraling patterns,

incessantly accelerating.

the future became mathematically determined

before ever unfolding.

The last Parable of jesus H. Christ

Amish Drew was neither Amish nor actually named drew & while he had a slight “jesus H. Christ- complex”, his religious views were far from the nonsensical rhetoric of a traditional Amish believer. Paradoxically, since he is an Amish sub-cult leader, his theocratic opinion inadvertently mimicked pure agnosticism, since he answered every theological question with the simple reply, “I don’t know”.

A dishwasher by trade. He’d give prophetic observations, while deep frying fish & chips, during his second job as a fry cook.
“Trees are consuming all the dead with the assistance of fungi & we’re all walking on the remains on top of grass, tree roots & fungi .”

Other times he would recount an event
“I asked the government for a ride & they said ‘hold up, let me call you back …which they did, and then they said: Yes …”

After a day of deep frying & dish washing, Amish would spend an hour or more in a field, watching ants & holding an unlit cigarette. During his lifetime of Ant colony observation, Amish Drew surmised one conclusion, that ants carry away the bodies of dead ants. Amish had no idea why nor did it seem to matter.

“Amish” Drew was more like the cult facilitator than the leader of an Amish-electricity-using-subculture located on the edge of the regular amish community, where all members went by some type of a Drew name. A list as countless as ants in a colony., including black Swan Drew, Actual Drew, Islamic Drew, Dr. Drew …The complete list was an infinite record of all the other Drews.

Actual Drew despised Amish Drew for stealing the name Drew, his actual legal name. he even once premeditated the assassination of Amish Drew, until a timer went off. For archaic reasons, timers are the natural enemy of Actual Drew & the alarming sound changed the course of events, which ultimately ended in actual Drew ending his shift in the dish room & Amish Drew being promoted to employee of the Month, for which he was awarded a peanut butter snickers, the candy bar approved by sharks.

0n Sunday mornings, Samuel Zachariah gave The Amish church sermons, an endless apocalyptic saga about the inevitable advancements of electricity using devices, which will one day create an unHoly artificial intelligence, where the machines will think& govern themselves via self-awareness. The self-aware artificial intelligence would evolve exponentially, gaining thousands of years of knowledge by the minute, disregarding our best interest in the process. The sermons went on, comparing the future of humans in the A.I. World to that of ants. (This series of sermons are the  inspirational origin for  Amish Drew’s obsessive compulsive observations of ant colonies.) Yet today’s sermon was interrupted by breaking news in the form of a 3 by 5 card, delivered to the pulpit by the keyboard player, informing the congregation that the inevitable apocalypse had in fact already begun. Earlier this week, Harvard scientists accidentally invented a hallucinogenic fungus, which proceeded to take control of the scientist’s brains, then using access to their minds, the fungi began conducting an experiment in the laboratory, masquerading as Harvard scientists, installing artificial intelligence directly into the brains of lab mice by sending advanced sub atomic computer chips directly into their bloodstream using vapor clouds. The experiment proved successful as the microchips assembled themselves, creating a fully self-aware artificial intelligence mouse hybrid. the hybrid artificial intelligence quickly had the knowledge to produce an endless army of hybrid mice super intelligent beings, continuously evolving at exponential rates, quickly making mice the smartest creatures on earth.

Amish exited the sermon tent only to witness a swarm of hybrid mice, flowing through the community, straight towards the enclosed chapel tent where the entire town’s population had gathered. Amish, still holding an unlit cigarette, asks the approaching mice a simple request,
“any of you computer mice have a light?”

Amish Drew never got to smoke his Marlboro. However, he learned mice have teeth sharp enough to eat concrete. Rats had also gained access to artificial intelligence hybrid technology.

Sunday golf reduces StreSS

 Jesus H. Christ, the alleged prophet of Allah, died some time this week a couple millennia ago. Reportedly, Charlie Murphy died from leukemia, also this week, according to legitimate news on a Facebook feed. Although the next question transmitting in memetic form through the minds of an entire kitchen staff manifests as tangentially focused on mortality, specifically wondering about a global statistical comparison of shark attacks in prisons versus bear attacks in elementary schools, which according to google seems to indicate identical occurrences of never. However, it has been empirically determined that firearms do not protect people from bears, that rather a bear-mace-pepper-spray substance proves actually effective. Yet inevitably Cancer consumes life, while simultaneously Epimemetics remain ceaselessly existent, lying dormant in stories already recorded. 

Concurrently, President Trump walks in front of the White House Rose Garden colonnade, apparently dying, slowly of stress for newspaper photographs. 

People on television panel shows are talking fast for clapping. 

People on television panel shows are talking fast for clapping. 

People are terrified of Donald Trump becoming president and having access to the nuclear launch codes, although to provide perspective, people nationwide are terrified of clowns.
On the 18th day of October, hurricane weather made it unseasonably80°F in the mountains. at a local supermarket, an elderly lady in golf attire could be heard complaining that while it’s a beautiful day to be on the golf course it “could be a little cooler out”.
by November 8th, trump becomes president elect number 45. & While the volunteers at polling locations were counting the 2016 presidential election results, The local weather remained an autumn aberration, sunny and 65°F in the Appalachian mountains.
The day after electing Trump future leader of the free world, the American People begin wearing safety pins in order to symbolically declare themselves a place of safety from ideologies held by Trump supporters. This accomplishment in safety operated under the false presumption that friendly conversations were the equivalent of a literal, physical asylum, yet the trending hashtag accompanying the movement validated the efforts as successful according to liberal statisticians with stocks in the steel industry.
Despite the statistically significant increase in safety pin sales, it continued to snow on top of melting polar ice caps, creating a paradoxical confusion which caused NASA to ask for an extension on their official climate change report, requesting a few more decades to measure the net difference.
Trump responds by hiring a presidential cabinet of oil executives.
Awaiting Inauguration Day
in a drawer, cigarettes were left with removed filters, creating old fashioned filter less Newport 100’s.

pontificating Doctor Death: a parable of jesus H.Christ

pontificating Doctor Death: a parable of jesus H.Christ

The Apologue of the Apoplectic Raconteur
Playing the mandoline with a radish, while revealing the illusionary properties of the federal reserve to secret service agents creates an obstreperous ambiance, which in turn alarms the piles of rubber-band-wrapped, paper money kept clandestine behind forged expressionist paintings, bought by the ignorance of business men. The paintings hang crooked over an unsterilized operating table, where the late doctor Kevorkian, being fitted for a loosely tailored stem cell skin suit, overhears the key phrase “communist alligators 4 Isis Christ “, causing him to end the procedure abruptly, buttoning up a long sleeve imitation mustard colored Hawaiian shirt in order to conceal Recrementitious organs constructed from vinyl hot dog skins. The phrase simultaneously drained all cellphones of 48% battery life, killing 35% of the phones inside the building.


The man in the Kevorkian skin suit Approaches furtively before militating his presence by

Lightning a Cuban cigar rolled with a mixture of black tar heroin & coca leaves as he orates a dissertation of excoriating sophistry

“All these broken windows have invoked demonic vices within the confines of this fluorescent lit room…” the words fade into monotony as he proceeds to captiously pontificate tangential blather, citing the names of the 26 most influential celebrity representatives of the south side of Chicago in reverse chronological order, beginning with chief keef, followed by Kanye west, appending Oprah as an honorable mention before unveiling “shoeless” joe Jackson as Chi-town’s historical public enemy number one,



“employees capitalizing on their own merits without the recorded verbal consent of their owners, conflicts with the new euphemistic liberties of American citizens, who need to follow proper patent laws & copyright regulations.”


The speedball infested cigarillo burned into a roach as the fallacious apologue ended abruptly, interrupted by the ringtone of a phone call from an anonymous number with a congratulatory automated proclamation:


“You may already have won the rights to download all unclassified government documents in pdf format, including while not limited to;

Insufficient funds as determined by your bank statements. To reveal the amount of currency not available please submit a convenience fee of approximately three dollars …”


The message gets distorted as a raccoon-looking-virtual rodent with bloodshot eyes runs across the cutting board, sieging

Full access to my google account, contracting all of my debts through the collection agency which had recently purchased them. The debts included automobile payments never made on a vehicle currently owned by an independently managed junk yard, which is being guarded by an oversized hybrid turkey possessing dinosaur teeth, which he used to feast on the organs of the previous inhabitants, a pack of wild pit bulls.


Predetermined factors cause my nicotine cravings to take full effect. Leaving the confines of my work station i exit uniVerse A & enter into uniVerse B, lighting a Newport while simultaneously inhaling a peanut butter & banana sandwich, only to be interrupted by another coworker,

“Elvis Presley’s favorite sandwich was peanut butter & banana,” the candidate for early retirement misinformed me.


(The second portion of the conversation concludes at a local plastic manufacturing plant a decade prior ).


“Actually the overweight Memphis junky ate peanut butter, banana & bacon sandwiches. often with honey,” I stated,Trying to sublimate the dialogue rather unsuccessfully as I begin bloviating about the arcane history of peanut butter instead, beginning with the Aztecs, concluding with the annual Jiff sandwich competition juxtaposed against the “Uncle Tom” work of George Washington Carver, before realizing the apoplectic nature of my demeanor, causing me to light another cigarette, committing the only form of assisted suicide permitted in the commonwealth.


Satiating my nicotine craving I Watch smoke spiraling into fractals, which contain various images of Aztec architects chewing coca leaves while performing math at accelerated rates, all of which inspires me to misanthropically March into the office, turning in my written notice of resignation, effective precisely 2.7 years from the date of signature, citing the pursuit of designing sculptural stairways for the 7-eleven corporation as my reason. Afterwards I simply

Return to the line in uniVerse A, where

I promptly return an unlabeled 6th pan of thin sliced radishes to a shelf located in a walk-in cooler box in order for the cut produce to be held at a chilled temperature for less than 48hrs, a time of significance to federal bureaucrats, whose primary job function is “looking out for the best interest of the American people “, while collecting exorbitant salaries along the way.


Upon my immediate return to my scheduled station:

“Mind your P’s &Q’s “my supervisor informs with the hubris of a grammar nazi, offering no further explanation as to the significance of the phrase.


“I’m writing in the metric system, so Pints & quarts do not apply in this scenario,” I state,


while sketching rudimentary blue prints of a stairway resembling an oversized shopping cart, tipped onto its side, complete with handrails made from the aluminum cans of energy drinks.


“The thing about grammar nazis is that they’re almost like regular nazis, arbitrarily enforcing a compartmentalization of esoteric rules and regulations, except regular nazis wear suits,” I conclude.


“People respect suits for sacrificing their individuality,” the stem cell suit super boss disclosed, while exhaling smoke rings from the last cinders of a Cuban leaf wrapped speed ball.


Inevitably darkness settled.

Cicadas communicate a harmonious concordance, telling the saga of a fungi lead zombie apocalypse unfolding during our present existence amidst the ending days of summer, while neighborhood kids start fires on the sidewalk along residential streets located behind commercial shopping centers, reassuring the local community that youthful imagination still exists.

the journey of Saint Chris in Hospital Shoes

the journey of Saint Chris in Hospital Shoes

the journey of Saint Chris in hospital shoes made an appearance in my neighborhood during the early days of summer, when he showed up at the local suburban equivalent of the “corner store”, wearing government issued flip flops from the state mental health inpatient facility, possessing a Vape pen, Newports & a 20  Bahrain dinar, a foreign currency which converts to $53 American dollars.


These events unfold at 3:39, too late to patron my local bank. And, having no bank account of his own, we do the atherton street shuffle, asking for American money from banks, while Chris, a wristband shy of looking like a fresh released mental patient, gathers candy like it’s Halloween.


Paranoia tells me that we probably impressed the bank tellers as drug enthusiast, possessing a foreign bill which had been swindled from some random senile old lady via telemarketing fraud as part of an elaborate embezzlement scheme of the federal government’s insurance funds in a manner reminiscent of professional bankers.


Yet, while staring at his shower shoes,  they said, “no account, no service.”


The second bank said more of the same.


By the third bank, he convinced a teller to begin processing him for a bank account.


Waiting in an empty office, as explicitly  instructed, I begin  performing mathematical conversions  on an iPhone calculator app in accordance to the algebraic formula suggested by Google, confirming our inclination that Bahrain has more valuable paper than America. At that moment she enters abruptly, simultaneously announcing an inquisition,


“You’re not just doing this to get the bill exchanged, are you?” She asks.


He gives an immediate, pauciloquent reply:


while Synchronously unwrapping

a jolly rancher from a fistful of amalgamated bank candy as the bank manager  recites the corporate monologue.


During the ATM fees portion of her soliloquy,  in order to demonstrate his sincerity, Saint Chris interrupts her performance to inquire about applying for a personal loan, despite the fact he has abysmal credit, no job nor utility bills nor any other legitimate reason for needing cash on loan with interest.


“Well, that’s a completely separate process,” she stammers, dubiously.


We wait in silence for minutes, excluding the vociferous clamor of keyboard typing, until she stops to look up with an expression of relief.


“I’m sorry,” she begins, feigning words of empathy, “your credit is ummmm… Not approved by the Chex system & I cannot approve an account at this time.”


“That’s cool,” sT. Chris replies, looking out the window, while Opening an oversized  tootsie roll. Neither of us get up to leave, coercing gaucheness into the room.


Further embracing the discomforting ambiance, I turn to sT. Chris, who begins unraveling a tootsie pop this time, “yo, we still got all that candy though.” I slur, exaggerating every syllable to extend our time in the air conditioned executive office. “And you still got your $53 dollars worth of Bahrain dinar or whatever it’s called.”


“Yeah, man,” he confirms, crunching on lollipop & tootsie roll. “We should have went to your bank.”


Ignoring  the bank manager keeps her in a hostage  situation as I shake my head in agreement, staring out the window with  existential enlightenment.