JimJim jimmied the lock on the old electronics shop’s rear entrance. No man had entered this one in particular, carried that particular glow of ratmen dingosnaps something particular but we bitzed to risk it.
The dreg of coffee stains and urine on walls branded us something smart when we entered.
The jimmied lock, placed by dingosnaps no doubt kept us guarding something awesome. I damn near jumpied out the jinglejive britches JimJim given me for Godsmas, which us fellows celebrated in the dark matter for white matter purposes.
“Calm those nervous bedfellows,” whispered JimJim.
Thomas groped leads in the darkness, JimJim shining the seedlamp down the hallway, I covered the rear, weilding an old bike pump for wack-a-muck.
Drag it all if not four yards from the spot we spoke a spiz-spaz zap and a flash of blue lamp came jolting at us.
“YEE YEE YEE YEE.”
Thomas jumped something torrent, knocking JimJim into my own corpus thrusting me spokes into a puddle of freshly sapped urine. Slip, boom, bashed my brains on the floor and blacked out I spent up.
“Your wakefulness. Time to tea.”
JimJim smiled at me, holding the seed lamp up close to his face so I sees his beaming face knowing safety a planted then.
Thomas waved his sack snappers and gave a group holler.
“They recognized me from the old days. Can you imagine that? Buggars actually bowed to me. What rubbish.”
“Plus they fear the golden seedlamp,” added JimJim.
“Sure. Sure,” went Thomas all fall about as king for a day he’d been.
“We’d better whipper snapper,” I toted something aweful, bruising the lump of swollen clay on my forehead.
We gathered the supplies we nestled for the parts we needed and redundencies applying…
Are you still there? Can you hear me?
They’re listening now.
Can you tell?
Forget about that old film reference.
I’m talking about the real thing here.
When incarcerated, say nothing. They call you to old habits without drawing attention to they “selves.”
Sea shelves by the sea shore save see sures by the shoe shod snow sour soup spooners.
I do these exercises to trail off into the wild green expanse post wild blue yonder. Since gray matter days cowered the blue sky something aweful. We rely on our memories of the grass, plus non plus the damned maniacle essers plaster electroglyphs of grass memories on every building and corner in every dark corner to light the way as they proclaim to a greener future.
See The They just missed it again.
No you are mine, now.
You’re listening to some music, sure, and you think nothing will ever stop you from enjoying life, not even death and the great expanse of eternal life awaits you.
We all dreamed once.
The They might get you.
I do that to feed The They with their own doubts for all the doubts They pumped into us for so long.
When I figured it out, route sixty six, down to the city of Angels, you’ve got to go to hell before you get to heaven.
Everything starts to connect when the clouds pass, and by clouds, I mean The They’s doubts in our heads. Old song quotes. Movie scenes, characters, scenes, color choices, credits. The list goes on.
All people have a bit of The They. And all of The They have a bit of all people in them.