OLD SOURPUSS

Last smoke of the night was haunted by an insane person hopping up hill. While on the one hand being fascinated, I was also seriously worried that he'd fall and hurt himself. Seeing as hopping up a slope backward is usually not a good idea. So I decided to turn around and head back. What with not being keen on conversation at that moment.

Contrary to popular belief it does not take all kinds. Backward hopping dude is actually not essential. He's more like the rancid waxy icing on the world's cake.

I've encountered him before. He doesn't have a rich inner life, unlike some of our loonies. He seems to be empty inside. A blank slate, with thought-resistant coating.

There is no protein in his brain. It's all cornstarch.

Oobleck husked in flesh.

There are times that I am not socially inclined. Too likely to say something blunt and nasty. Although bluntness is often considered a Dutch characteristic, and commendable, in my case it's not so much culturally induced as an accurate reflection of my unpleasant personality.

After spending all day at work being kind and forbearing, I sometimes need to revert to my snarling rabid caveman true nature. Snapping and biting. A little ball of seeting nastiness.

Sometimes the street is flooded and the daemonic clown with the red balloon lurking in the storm drain has drowned. Think of it as being a mental stretch of lowlying ground with poor water management infrastruture. It's dank there and malaria is rife. A dengue-fever swamp suburb. A junkfood restaurant parking lot awash with human fluids. There is too much of it. It's backed up. Things are breeding in the bog. Unclean monsters swim languidly just below the surface waiting for someone to put their Nike-shod extremity in the hip-deep hot ooze.

Valium keeps the slab on the table from twitching while the listening devices are installed. There is a geologist with a little hammer whacking at exposed kneecaps in the muck, and everyone jerks because of it.

Don't drown out there. Don't go swimming either.



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