Saturday, October 9, 2010

the Next Floor, 8th hour...

"Gotta pen? Gotta brain?" in a tired voice. I nodded. "Goood! Write down everything that issues forth from His Establishment." I nodded. "Very well. I'll turn this over to the Trinity..." The archangel Michael sat at his desk, slowly shaking his head. I dun a bad thing, huh, George? Sent back to level two, a clammy, claustrophobic room; at least I was still in Heaven. The bats? Remember'm? Conspicuous manipulators, making rubbery sounds in their high-pitched, exquisite discordanceeeees.
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The C.D. now speaks. Though I couldn't see Him anywhere, I heard Him as clearly as an eruptive, incessant prominance-of-the-sun, which had the velvety texture of something bone fide, yet, with a mixture of nausea like Dairy Queen.
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"I can explain this," sed eye.
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"YOU LISSEN TO ME, YOUR FATHER!!!" He thundered. "That was wrong and almost cost me your soul!!! Though 'she' was thoroughly engrossing and had outrageous aplomb, you cannot propose to convert 'her' to our religion."
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"But - "
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"They're evil, son. Everything below Ground Zero is evil. Why in the world do you think they're there? They serve only the Prince of Darkness, those who're not fodder for the dogs. If I brot'm to level One or higher, that'd be brainwashing, something which I cannot do; they have to choose to love me, which they refused to do in their Finite Existence."
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"But - "
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"I know. It breaks thy tender heart. But, yet, you don't mate with flies. Basically, 'she' is a fly, controlled by the Liar - nasty, pure and simple."
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I finally shouted, "I wasn't trying to convert her, Pops. Only trying to be friends."
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He laughed so bloody savagely, I was lifted-up outta my school desk like an A-bomb went-off beneath me, barren and unkempt was the wasteland after. Better take notes, y'think?
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"Better stay up here for awhile."
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"How long is for awhile?"
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"Didju reeeeed the instruction manual? Nope. You just skimmed, confident in your mortal body; you just went in with-full-guns-blazing, a one-man-army. Any idea how close you came to death?"
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I thot for a second or two. "I thot once you were resurrected - "
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"Far worse than death... and you have to stay. Son, I gave you an honor, a privilege, which not everyone receives. Once you go DOWNstairs, who's domain is it? True, I made the Abyss, but I want no part of that stinkin' Hell hole. Once you go down, if you stay off the path... Didju reeed page 10, paragraph B? No. Read page 10, paragraph B for Me out loud."
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I found that locale as my eyes went skyward. Mumbling, "One flew over the cuckoo's nest."
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"Don't mumble, son. Supremely annoying." All was very, very quiet in the classroom; gagging, I felt a bat droppin' land square on me nekk. "I don't wanna lose to THEIR side."
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Nodding.
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"An analogy, k? They're very much like whale songs VS. late Latin, which is quite difficult for any foreigner; while your past was a violent, bararous truth, most people down there find it enlightening."
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Wrote summore...
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"Caught in their dementia, they're Miss Guided for want of something better, never having the moxie to go outside and look for it, which all boils down to an atmosphere of decay. So, I just lettum after many hints. Most people, especially the wealthy, pawns of Satan, scaly and vicious, during their polished entertainment, have a melancholy, globalized psychosis in their fortuitous agglomeration."
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Nodding...
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"Though they had quite the weight and presence on the stage of their weee existence, didn't they, but where are they now? Those filthy rich who thot they had everything?? Their enthralling, exciting lives are over and gone precisely because they chose to be gone through the worship of the superficial."
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I checked the air for bats and, sure enough, one of 'em came THIS close to my head, batting the oxygen. They were like Japanese Zeros: sleek and deadly...
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"A finite life was given the magnificent opportunity to inherit what no person sees on earth, but, alas, they chose the residue on the bottom: vapid, skimpy, pointless..."
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"Isn't that sorta cruel and unusual punishment for a finite existence?"
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Without skipping a beat, "Son of Mine, don't you also gimme no crap. Didn't you yourself have the exact, same, continuence with a head injury besides? And where are you now?"
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I dared not say in the Monopoly Jail for fear He'd blow-me-away again. I decided to nod, writing summore, preferrin' to stay silent despite the lovely, bat excrement which so graciously fallen. Everything's beautiful in Heaven, right?
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"Oh, and that's reeelly gonna kill you. Teaches humility, boy. Is that good P/R or is that the tooth?"
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"TOOTH??"
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"Truly, I sayeth unto thee, unjust liege, you have, as Anna put it, awesome teeth? Well, those are awesome truths."
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Scribbled feverishly in my quest.
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"Anyway, 'she' was smooth and sinister, like Wizardry - the game you and your Dad picked-up in '80; however, definitely pretentious like Pandora's Box, fulla demonsNdevils, way down in the meat district. A malleable figure, though very bright and intuitive, she had a righteous process of sullen unrest, a sordid crime against humanity. What you encountered was a succubuss which you almost boarded. Never fails. Confucious say: stud with prick gets in trouble."
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Ouch. My pen moved. Egad.
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"Satan played with your lobotomy, shall we say, with frosted glass which you didn't see too clearly outta... and arsenic greens in hopes you'd find some lush meadow to copulate in with thy idyllic-surface-cleaner. Needed some windex."
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I nodded, almost laughin'. People waaay back on earth had called me arrogant. Wonder why.
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"AIN'T NUTHIN' TO LAUGH ABOUT, SON!!! I ALMOST EFF'N LOST YOU!!!" He TNT thundered (if there was a scale between 1 and 10? Withe endNsight, gee, with harmonious, bombastic exclamation), as I saw the putrid bats cower, as a ferocious thunderstorm was about to erupt. "Those blokes downstairs? In the whorehouses and brothels which you narrowly missed? Yes, they have'm and, no, they ain't pleasant. A heapin' plethora of human decay and filth, some poisonous runoff you don't want no part of."
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I swallowed some stagnant saliva.
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"Hear me well, son. Don't be alarmed when your imagination figuratively gallops-away like Black-Beauty-thoroughbred at thy literary indulgence. Upstairs, when you finally step through THE Door to utter bliss, you can have thy heart's desire for eternity - many sextillions of 'em; however, down there, you had work to do, you were sidetracked, you-woman-chaser-you."
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A wry smile was forthcomin'...
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"I alone know. All you gotta know."
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I nodded in my bare, social insecurity.
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"Don't you ever tell Me there's a drip-feed happenin'. Kapiche? Ketchin' alla that, son??"
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"Yes, sir."
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"Good. Lemme tell youse a story now that we're on the subject of social reform. I was watching the big, black, beautiful soldiers in My army the other day when I was waterin' My trees. The black ants regurgitate their water and share it with their fellow bretheren. That's beautiful, beautiful humility; that's the rock-solid-in-Christ basis of love most people need, yet, most people find that disgustin'. Ants don't care about phlegm-balls and goobers. But, the heart of the matter is, are you moving-on-up after your demise like Weezy or are you just being recycled? Or are you just stukk on this world buying worthless junk that doesn't git you into Paradise, thus, recycled because you think Jesus is a whoppin' Loser and you don't believe in weirdo, space aliens from Mexico?"
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I was greatly puzzled, chukklin' in my Chukks. I greatly wished I could smoke a doobie.
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"Later, dude. Funny or not, lissen-up, humanity. Get ready for the lucid renaissance where the Starz-A-line. Like him or not, John Denver was pretty kick-ass, which a ton of my angels thot his musak was pretty nifty, had quite a fascination with UFOs, comin' outta the 70s - gobbsa people had to be recycled after that fiasco... Nevertheless, you were an instructor for Kempo karate, were you not? You and the ants are tremendously instrumental: botha youse would physically die for the Queen, you for our Mother, just like the Wisdom ants in your spiritually gritty, perennial demise."
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"Never thot of it that way."
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"Though those Books of the Dead you found in his filthy, innermost lair were pendant and forlorn, they were extraordinarily direct with venomous suffering and remarkable brutality; but, yet, your novel will definitely enlighten humanity withe balm of illumination, the parable of romance."
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"You know sumtin? I never knew my mother," sobbing. "We were separated at birth."
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"Oh," flippant. "How sad."
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"Yeah," heartbroken. "The umbilical cord was the last straw."
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"Funny guy - a Vaudeville candidate you are. However, I am," He continued, "bursts of polished flamboyance in our feast for our eyes; I alone am your fevid, emotional renaissance. Whatever you desire is yours Upstairs. Just gotta conform your ways to My Way in this puny, insignificant lifetime."
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I was literally caught in Her insanity: having mined the purest gold while on earth did eye, now Her Voice was like liquid silver, now Hers was a bottomless reservoir with a killer rhythm section; Hers was a complete benevolence of gentle and soft, like moth fur, like a warm, sea-breeze with my plenary indulgence - I could suckle on Her large, droopin' nipples for as long as a snail would travel the Great Wall, and the cycle would be complete, spilling over and over in a volatile velocity of love never ending, making this a gourmet dinner forever (wouldn't that be WON!derfull if you could have a little person of the opposite sex and just pop! 'em in your mouth? You could have all of 'em, all the time!) I was truly executed for sensitivity, rather than intellectual 'coup d'grace', in my black-box-body...
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"That's heavy, cat, like two-tons-of-A1-sawce... or like the Donner party."
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"How are they?"
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"Fab-you-lous, kold_kadavr. Just saw'm the other day, enjoying the all-you-can-eat-smorgasbord. Cannot stop going back."
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Awesome. Happy was eye.
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"Those publishers in NYC went bankrupt when they read our first, atrocious manuscript. Wonder why? Was our writing just a taaad forthright in opinions and commentary, wanting to cut-through alla the world like easy spam in our excessive idealism and razor-sharp-insights??"
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Before the last time, I nodded.
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"Fools. Some modern detritus, some apathy mixed-in from the Liar is what gits most people cast-out: smooth sex, unmarried copulation, tightly-orchestrated-enterprises, divided and subdivided like amoebas is what the Negrow population, where you grew-up, is happening now; politics and pop-culture has merged like fornication into one, big, Lollapalooza-land where everything is delicious, making a vagrant of the sublime - everything's here, everything's present. No need for anything if ya got it all."
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Nodded for the last time.
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"Big bosoms, big ties, big cars, beer-bellies and bell-bottomz. Big, big, big. Everywhere. Everything. America has gotten far too lazy and garish; the sky's the limit on their impassioned fantasia. Satan, which the lukewarm, luncheonette media doesn't wanna believe in, has influenced your culture to expand subconsciously, both in your heads and in your weight, where smallness and humility is looked upon as weak and impotent."
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Licked my wounds...
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"Now, materialistic matrimony pushes the limits and assaults the faculties of being: though were quite original - I made'm as a petri-dish-experiment, thank-you-very-much - people now are allusively dense, bitter, and chaotic. Why? They adamantly refuse to have the One Thing that unites: love and light - basically, Me. Your country is grasping, struggling for sloth."
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"Wow. And the point is... ??"
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"There's a larger canvas of sumptuous costumes under your chemistry - if only you'd love."
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The End.
Roll Credits, please.

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