Friday, June 25, 2010

Like acid and oil on a madman's face

Who is this man ? Why does he appear in so many people's dreams night after night? It is a difficult pancake. His face contorts like someone jabbed with the Faradic Facial-Muscle Stimulator at the Old Entomologist, he smiles and weeps and frowns, but at the end of the night we are none the wiser for all this flapping of his reptilian mouthparts.
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Perhaps he is trying to say something, something urgent, to wake us from our collective dream, but no-one can agree on what. Something roared out very quickly with three or four words compressed into one ragged shout. I could not be sure what it was but several phrases sprang into my head together and each of them could have been the contents of the shout.

'Would you say that he said "Don't press so hard"?' wondered Another Kiwi.
'Second favourites always win?'
'Not that.'
'Two bananas a penny?'
'Not bananas,' I said.
'You are still loonies,' said Evangaline Van Holsteren as she collected our empty glasses.

We would have asked tigris for her opinion but she was back in the Riddled office locking up the Dream Control Machine.


Big Bad Bald Bastard said...

Acid and oil, eh?

Memo to self: Get Pentagon funding for feasibility study re: use of salads as anti-personnel projectiles.

M. Bouffant said...

Not unmindful of these contortions.

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

The Old Entomologist - just a bar, or is it a mad scientist's laboratory?

tigris said...

The paper next to the dream machine said "butt snakes." At least I think that's what it said before the tiny sugar ants forming the letters marched off singing a sort of bossa nova Dies Irae.

Smut Clyde said...

just a bar, or is it a mad scientist's laboratory?
Juke-boxes are passé, and jejune. Also there was the health scare a few years ago when laboratory tests showed that a steady diet of jukes could cause cancer of the jejunum.

mikey said...

I opened the juke box, but there was no juke
This didn't make sense, it MUST be a fluke
I checked in my lunchbox, it held only lunch
But I needed some juke and I needed a bunch

I ran to the toybox, perhaps there I'd find it
But toy juke? I read an article that badly maligned it
Similarly the toolbox yielded tools
Who has the juke, and where are those fools?

I thought I'd get right with a world with no juke
Though I have to admit that the thought makes me puke
But that's not the thing that REALLY appalls
That's a pinball machine without any pin balls

Smut Clyde said...

"Flappy reptilian mouthparts" mentioned here, if memory serves.