Tagged: gonzo

A Handful of Mushrooms

  • by Kentdozens of nails
  • impromptu vacations and picnics in the park
  • “Let us go and present ourselves to be killed.”
  • eventually they finished eating
  • my temples throbbing with excitement

Tune in next time part 226                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

A handful of mushrooms was more effective as an appetizer than a snack, but it was certainly better than nothing. I worried that the employees would be upset about me taking some without paying, but they just smiled.

I crammed the fungus into my mouth and chased after Cleopatra.

She held up one hand as I approached. She was probably checking for spies again, but I was distracted by her fingers. Each one had dozens of nails, a trait I’d failed to notice before. It was beautiful.

The stop at her apartment was very quick. Gordon kept asking to be let out of the bathroom. In Italian. Apparently Cleopatra didn’t speak Italian because she showed no sign she understood.

On our way to the hovercraft depot, we saw families of purple giraffes and levitating hippos having impromptu vacations and picnics in the park. Cleopatra was too intent on our travel plans to appreciate the scene. She was dragging me by the hand, so I pulled her to a stop and pointed out the amazing spectacle. One of the giraffes saluted me with his beer can.

“Oh shit,” Cleopatra said. “Those weren’t maitake mushrooms. Come on, we have to hurry.”

Turned out that what they were calling a hovercraft was actually a giant lawnmower. Passengers disappeared into it, and since they didn’t seem afraid I decided I wasn’t either. “Let us go and present ourselves to be killed.” Cleopatra just rolled her eyes. And we survived the boarding process, so I decided I could trust her. Her butt was fake, but she was honest about everything else.

Now I realized our vessel was not a mower, but a gigantic locust. There were others like it, all grazing on the reeds by the shoreline. Eventually they finished eating and set out over the water. I stood at the bow, watching the horizon, my temples throbbing with excitement.

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The Cuisine of My Homeland

  • k-avatarthrows sufficient light into the deep darkness
  • took you long enough
  • Indeed, the brains of anteaters
  • four years later I was born
  • I admit, this got me a little teary-eyed

The cuisine of my homeland is most unusual. Indeed, the brains of anteaters are among the less-outrageous staple ingredients. Traditional kitchens are located underground, and slithering down the muddy tunnel entrance took you long enough to work up the necessary appetite. Electricity isn’t allowed, but the bioluminescent fungus throws sufficient light into the deep darkness. Ah, the heady stench of mother’s stew, I hadn’t thought about it in so long. I admit, this got me a little teary-eyed, recounting these details to you. The most important thing to remember when cooking was not to use excessive amounts of wasp venom. Mother ignored this advice once and added three nests’ worth to her cake frosting, and four years later I was born.

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Cotton Umbrellas, and Useful Knowledge

  • cotton umbrellas, and useful knowledge
  • throw other people’s lives into disarray
  • Whenever she wore pants
  • Should it ever leave the ground
  • scattering in all directions

Jen’s Take

by jenFor years Lolita’s sartorial choices were the talk of the internet. Whenever she wore pants instead of a short skirt it would throw other people’s lives into disarray. Fashion bloggers never knew quite what to say, their clever words scattering in all directions like so many cotton umbrellas, and useful knowledge of how the masses could emulate Lovely Lolita’s style never appeared. Lolita dreamed of turning all of her cast-off clothing into a giant hot air balloon. Should it ever leave the ground, she thought she would enjoy looking down on all those who had previously looked down on her.

Kent’s Take

k-avatarHer imagination was like a giant, colorful balloon filled with fish and sneakers and harmonicas. Should it ever leave the ground, the townsfolk would be flabbergasted by cotton umbrellas, and useful knowledge, scattering in all directions.

Her balloon would always throw other people’s lives into disarray. They couldn’t reconcile her chaotic visions with their own preference for beige humdrummery. To see the creative faculties of her mind soaring over the trees made their earwax buzz.

Whenever she wore pants, her balloon sailed in figure-eights. Whenever she wore shoes, two tiny banjos were elected to parliament.

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Everything Was Up For Grabs

  • k-avatarin such a cloister
  • from card tricks to chicks
  • like the truck says
  • she understood. She always did
  • no longer limited to swimming through gray jello

Everything was up for grabs in such a cloister, from card tricks to chicks. You just had to know what to say to the Sister in charge. You had to kneel, and tell her these four little words, “Like the truck says.”

She understood. She always did.

Then you followed her down a long, oppressively hot corridor. You smelled roses, and you heard crying behind closed doors. You followed the Sister in charge, and your eyelids itched and your ears started ringing, because you were so close. Just a few more steps and you’d be no longer limited to swimming through gray jello. Color and texture would be returned to your existence. For a while.

Unless that was the wrong kind of hilltop building, and the Sister in charge wouldn’t understand. Maybe there’s only the one cloister where it works that way.

But you go inside to see what’s up for grabs.

 

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“You Really Should Make An Effort”

  • by jenbe sensitive to electrical fields
  • umbilical cord. It included
  • brought them succulent branches
  • once was plowed
  • I predict a lot of insomnia

“You really should make an effort to be sensitive to electrical fields,” my mother once said. “Their feelings are easily hurt.” So I made every effort when a couple of them moved in next door. I did some research into their customs and then prepared a gift basket tied up with a ribbon the exact color of an umbilical cord. It included many homemade goodies. The next day I brought them succulent branches of coca leaves from the field near our street that once was plowed, but has now been taken over by a drug cartel. I predict a lot of insomnia if they eat the leaves.

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The Best Immersion-Therapy

  • k-avatarsex-anxious parents?
  • copulating since 1400
  • projections of the men
  • the demon’s scrotum is clearly in view

The best immersion-therapy for sex-anxious parents? Gotta be Grotto des Grotesques, where the foyer is populated with digital projections of the men who have held the title of Lothario Supremo since the award’s inception in 1239. Very soothing!

Also, in its depths, is a geothermal manifestation of a pair of infernal trysters who’ve been copulating since 1400. Although most of the lovers’ forms are embedded in calcite and sulfurous accretions, the demon’s scrotum is clearly in view.

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Do You Have Them Memorized?

  • k-avatarDo you have them memorized?
  • gravity tugging at her cheeks
  • pale glow rippling above the strongman’s skin
  • By the crossed eyes of the Jumbo!
  • I am captured!
  • as the animal disappeared
  • great plaid bags of trousers

“Do you have them memorized?” Zelda asked Lorenzo, prompting him to glance up from her breasts in embarrassment. Decades of gravity tugging at her cheeks had made her countenance sorrowful and her pants ill-fitting, yet had somehow left her bosom unravaged.

Lorenzo lifted the tent flap to peer outside, and decided it was safe. But after two strides, a pale glow rippling above the strongman’s skin told of his miscalculation as he suddenly froze in place.

“By the crossed eyes of the Jumbo! I am captured!”

Zelda poked her head out of the tent and immediately saw the culprit: a force-projecting depantser, which she recognized by its vermilion tailfeathers as the animal disappeared into the forest. Lorenzo would be fine in a moment, but his pants were gone forever, added to the depantser’s hoard. As Lorenzo blushed, Zelda imagined the cave, filled with great plaid bags of trousers.

 

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Helen Had Almost Finished

  • k-avatar— and to a lesser extent the cat and the horse
  • “Exactly!” whispered the doctor
  • finished powdering her nose
  • a killer whale’s muzzle
  • felt a strange quiver
  • dark brown man

Helen had almost finished powdering her nose, which was a noteworthy accomplishment. It looked like nothing so much as a killer whale’s muzzle, broad yet graceful, and packed with needle-sharp teeth.

Lurking in the closet, and watching Helen’s reflection through a gap in the door, the dark brown man felt a strange quiver. He drew a deep breath.

“Be still!” hissed a nearly inaudible voice behind him. Hunkered below the hanging skirts and gowns were two more people, and it was the gawky northerner who’d shushed him. The other,  a savage beauty almost as dark as the dark brown man, rolled her exquisite eyes in a meaningful manner. “Exactly!” whispered the doctor, “— and to a lesser extent the cat and the horse!”

 

 

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I was surely dead!

  • k-avatargathered worshippers in his turnups
  • giggled and tickled the boy next to her?
  • a cocoon of darkness
  • with the skirts of their nightshirts on fire
  • I was surely dead!

I was surely dead! My chances were about as good as a couple of sleepwalking jugglers at a gas station with the skirts of their nightshirts on fire.

My mind writhed in a cocoon of darkness. Was it Marie Curie who giggled and tickled the boy next to her? Did she tickle me?

A farmer, barefoot, gathered worshippers in his turnups. Is he a god to crickets?

 

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Hector and Amelia

  • k-avataran unenviable chore
  • sagging out from under her hand
  • “Coffee?”
  • the youngest of the preschool children
  • it thumped ponderously east
  • an interminable bawl

Hector and Amelia sat atop the youngest of the preschool children as it thumped ponderously east.

“Coffee?” Amelia suggested, the sopping brown towel sagging out from under her hand. Hector shook his head and stared at the moon just risen ahead of them. Wringing the stuff out into a mug was an unenviable chore given the uneven motion of the mammoth toddler’s head. And if any of the hot liquid touched his scalp, he’d set the mountains a-tremble with an interminable bawl.

 

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