I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes.
I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over.
I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong.
And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions.
I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely.
It's what we do.
Only lightly lurgied now. The office at my place of work has it now. Every evening we drag the bodies out and bury them in shallow pits.
As for the dark, I have a cunning plan. Dark is abundant during the coming winter nights, I'm working on ways to compress and condense dark, and store it in my cellars. In midsummer, my forethought will make me a very rich man indeed. I plan to sell Dark in cylinders, rather like those that oxygen, acetylene, and their gaseous pals come in.
Think of it: Imagine you waking early, too early in July, and your eyelids are illumined by that early morning sun, which penetrates curtains and torments the weary sluggard. No more! just reach out a hand, twist the valve on the bedside cylinder, and release a roomful of peaceful, shadowy, dark.
Photographers will purchase it. Sellers of luminous novelties will love it. And I will be richer than Croesus.
I smoke nothing. I'm a fairly fervent non smoker. People around me breathe the fumes of various combusted weeds, but me? I never felt it enhanced anything, my head is already full of the bizarre.
:-)
ReplyDeleteI like it!
I assume that you no longer have the lurgy?!
Only lightly lurgied now. The office at my place of work has it now. Every evening we drag the bodies out and bury them in shallow pits.
ReplyDeleteAs for the dark, I have a cunning plan. Dark is abundant during the coming winter nights, I'm working on ways to compress and condense dark, and store it in my cellars.
In midsummer, my forethought will make me a very rich man indeed. I plan to sell Dark in cylinders, rather like those that oxygen, acetylene, and their gaseous pals come in.
Think of it: Imagine you waking early, too early in July, and your eyelids are illumined by that early morning sun, which penetrates curtains and torments the weary sluggard.
No more! just reach out a hand, twist the valve on the bedside cylinder, and release a roomful of peaceful, shadowy, dark.
Photographers will purchase it.
Sellers of luminous novelties will love it.
And I will be richer than Croesus.
What have you been smoking in that dark room?
ReplyDeleteI smoke nothing. I'm a fairly fervent non smoker.
ReplyDeletePeople around me breathe the fumes of various combusted weeds, but me? I never felt it enhanced anything, my head is already full of the bizarre.
I like it!
ReplyDeleteI take it this is an Irish sign.....?