a stream of semi-consciousness so to speak, written a while back. it amuses the hell out of me so i figure some of you may enjoy as well...

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A continuance, I badly need a continuance your honor...

So what about my god damn marshmallows? What about them indeed. I see... so it's come down to this has it, you and me dear friend sitting across from a small wooden table in a darkened room with naughty but a 23.999 watt bulb flickering small coins into the abyssal corners of the room, piling them up at such speed that in time there is a supermassive black hole creating the table we sit at in mathematical formulae, each of us about to grab the non-euclidean figures on the table to find that next digit of pi that causes it to repeat itself and so find God deep within the numbers, because this my friend is an impasse that we live upon, this place is called moment and to all sides lie paths that reach for eternity and no one has walked a path fully, do you dare choose your path here, do I, do any or do we simple stumble and roll about terrified that we may reach that end and there find a God we have made for ourselves that is nothing more than dreams and demands and otherwise is an empty and hollow shell of lies and deceit used to keep us sane in the truth that there is nothing beyond what we know and so many things beyond that nothingness that it makes the soul coward in the corners until it is pinged by the tokens of wealth and runs from the event horizon only to see it getting farther away because there is no escape from it, he moves similarly to Zeno's Arrow Paradox, but instead of going halfway of halfway, he goes halfway there, then halfway from there, then halfway from there and ends just short of the Event Horizon, or maybe a bouncing arrow, it plans to go the whole way but has to go halfway there first, then it realizes it has to go halfway to get there, then goes halfway from there to the previous halfway and then realizes it has to go halfway to get there, then goes halfway from there to the previous halfway and then realizes that it's time for a cold beer and tequila shots because it's never getting anywhere with these shitty directions from the Internet and since it's obviously male since the arrow is a phallic symbol, much like a cigar or penis, it's not going to stop for directions because really who would respect a penis that can't find it's way to where it's going, "Sorry, I'm a penis and I'm lost, where am I and how do I get to the vaginal orifice? What do you mean I'm at the lungs? How the fuck did I get here?!" quite frankly if I were a woman I wouldn't want to play with that and as a man if my penis did that I'd have to shoot him and then myself cause that's just embarrassing and so the arrow has to stop and get piss drunk so it forgets what's going on and just plunks into the floorboards at the feet of the soul as it cowers and weeps from it's plight of being lost at the intersection of infinity and aleph null with eternity barreling down the road in a nuclear powered steam roller with spikes jutting from the drum and tank tracks made of abandoned dreams screaming in agony over the cowardice of the souls that abandoned them to such a fate and in the end the soul simply blacks out and awakens again without memory of it's past trauma with occasional hints of it surfacing to drive it into the bed and cover it's head with sheets and pray for God to save them even though he refused to save my damn marshmallows from the bastard Pacman...

Rage into a fiery ball of terror shredding all that oppose you and tearing down every wall within your own city of sins and regrets, killing the mobs and gangs of your failings and leaving nothing but blood soaked streets and blown out buildings and your self burns into the night because there are no public services to put you out, in the morning the ashes are blown by the wind to the ocean to be swept out to France where it will be shaped by master artisans into tasteful nudes of shaved platypussies or pi, for 3.14159268 is .00000003-ish off of pi but close enough for our measurements because we only need pi ^ k of chronotons to break the 4th dimension barrier and go back in time to the age of iron and introduce heavy metal so the 80's become the 80s in BC and Alice Cooper is Sir Alice of Cooper or some such non-sense like the 6th sense being a hybrid of smelling ectoplasm and being groped by it, or so I've been told by Doctor Venkman the famed parapsychologist that cured the ghost of some manor or other of it's Oedipus complex and paranoia thereby letting it live a full and enjoyable tormenting afterlife as an incorporeal spirit lost wandering through eternity because it didn't pay the proper toll on the highway to heaven and got ran off the highway to hell, thereby leaving it somewhere south of New Jersey, the Garden state that grows it's own state flower of concrete which is different from shamcrete or truecrete, which is really the strongest of them all because it isn't based on lies, if we build things on a truecrete foundation they'll never fall because all the ones that fall have been built on concrete, a crete full of confidence tricks and lies, the things that eat away at the moral fiber of societies pants, or it's bowl of wheaties depending on the type of fiber they prefer to munch on like pacman and his damn little dots that look suspiciously like small marshmallows from my hot chocolate which keeps me from having it the way I want, with my friggin marshmallows, which are my right as an American or at least my right as a human being, good GOD what do these people expect me to DO with hot chocolate without my GOD DAMN MARSHMALLOWS?!

Tags: Stream Of Conscious Marshmallow Surreal