Month: September 2017
It’s dead. Just some way we all got played and leveraged. His almost unlimited affinity for the struggle. Was Jr duck hunting? Sacrilegious idea? He returns to his boat with a few less bullets. Wolf and TV get special yarn to weave a tapistry. They both return to the boat, “so did you find her?” “No, I wish I never came here.” “let’s play the cover song creep, am I right.” “I wish I was special…”
In his garb, he walks. Jr in cognito like the frog stalk’s a misquote. If the lesson kills you was it worth it, all human kind. Some one will pick it up and run with, not you. “I don’t want to battle her every night, bitch, dick lord to the elderly.” Jr fumes his frustration. He’s close, and has to psych himself up. She’s close.
Janus the portal guard of old. “Oh lanoo I got you now,” Jr says. Word came in that sister is in Paris. “OK crew gather up! We will be coming to Port soon. I will be getting some aged ham, cheese, wine, and other provisions please make a list of reasonable requests.” “A suitcase packed with speedos please,” says wolf. “Haha you lady killer.” Jr will be going in alone to find the hip hop queen of France. Sister senses that the jig is up, that she was praying to Juno that she could just live away from the salty dogs to be married to some famous rapper. Why Jr tries to get to her is not clear.
As below so above, and again as before and before as again, twice. The half truth. The helicopter pilot retorts “where did you get your arrogance wolf.” “I’m no hippie asshole!” The two seem to be bonding. The weapon known as Jesus Jr wields to his pure happenstance. TV is by Jr soaked and childish with breaking through the storm, though she had fallen down during the debacle and Jr falls to delight and splender. The amorphous seven on call, it’s s been said and now their dead.
“Yes, this is the way of acceptance, the long game most care not alas! We suffer our sentinel got lost misplaced perhaps,” say’s the helicopter pilot. “What the fuck no one asked you,” say’s wolf. “Hey no one ever asked me?” “If no one dies what do we care?” Sensation, exploration, and the prime directive play, record, stop kill the fun MTV. The cancer of it all. Author note. Be the change and let me go to work you fucking vampires, may the Lord of spirits strike me dead. I know the pieces fit/
