An audience to boot

This one is four in one just for the fun...

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

AN AUDIENCE TO BOOT

The audience with one foot in the grave began to pack their bags and go home when suddenly the circles became transparent again and the dust settled and so without a backward glance digital digits and the snap-cure proof made whoopee celebrating a song in the old language in the long good night under the huge sky and not for nothing was the moon so full and beatifically hot.

Far away from all the troubles in a place called paradise in the lion’s den of all you could be underneath the canopy tree:

“Err, Wilbur?”

“Si Senor?”

“What are you carrying and what is the secret password of anything?”

Four or five kidnapped now kind of moments later:

“Give me a crate of beer senor and I will tell you everything.”

“You are right; we must not sub-confine the meaning. What’s that you’re carrying under your arm there?”

“It is a long letter from the loony-bin senor.”

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know senor, I have resisted opening it.”

“Perhaps I could help you with that.”

“You are too kind senor.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Image by Rene Jacobs from Pixabay

A RUBBER TWISTED

A whisper came that the crack of doom that was the brother to the curse of doom was stealing all the money from a side door set up from before.

So Blue-Jane raced to the bank to withdraw all she could but the bank was closed and wouldn’t let her in.

Not to be deterred she went around the side to see for herself the side door that was being whispered about.

A slow boat full of gin, a rust bucket really stood in her way and wouldn’t let her pass and became a monument to all her suffering right then which was all well and good if you were a dog and bone left in the gutter, but no use whatsoever in the free-flow five and ten that was about to crack nuts with a sledgehammer.

So breathing deeply to hold it all in she took a step backwards and then another until she was back where she started from in the towers that were no towers at all where she screamed once and then went back to blowing bubbles and wearing her rubber twisters just in case.

A long ways off from all this in the show and tell where the days were long and enough was always near enough if you were never going to make it in the entire might of a buying spree the highly unlikely were sipping hot coffee and counting their dearly departed.

“I was never so small when I was so big,” said one who was spooning coffee froth into a saucer.

“Never mind dear, it’ll all come back to you in the wash,” said her friend trying to remember where she was and where she came from.

Under the table the curse of doom was sniggering and pulling the deluxe strings to make up a little strange for its amusement.

Image by Markus Bieck from Pixabay

IN-FIRMAMENT

“I will not tell you again,” said the big basket weaver being far too frugal with its words in the never after all that so many were falling into every day.

“And if you don’t love yourself you’ll be loveless,” it said as an afterthought that fell on the deaf ears of all the messiah men that were stepping forward to be counted. So it shut up and said nothing more.

“Buzz, buzz,” said the candy-knickers man selling knickers to the meow cat.

“I will not tell you again,” repeated the echo that faded away in the big hall that no one went to anymore.

The end came sooner than expected and punched a hole in the jelly-oh of the merry clappers and caused a lot of consternation that became a moot point to be cheered and then thrown in the ditch with all the other used consternations that made up all that was made up under the in-firmament; and this too became a moot point.

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

THE OVEN MASTERS

A bridge that the hordes were walking over fell into disrepair from over-use and so was given a D notice called the kiss of death, that the floods washed away in the government restructuring and after a while became the norm until no one noticed it wasn’t there anymore; and then a drought dried the river up and they all began to cross again to the other side which was no side at all so they all turned around and went back again and so became the two way rush to nowhere until the government put up a road block and funnelled them all into a camp and bombed them all into mud.

Behind shut doors the government laughed their heads off and filled their faces with the best of everything.

When the bus came to head south the evil ones had got there first and set up a chain reaction to end all hope and turn about all those who had nowhere else to go.

And so they streamed into the land of the blind and set up camp there and the government bombed that too.

By now there were two kinds of people: the blind and the bombed that came to say: “There are many escalators of death and all of them wind up their windows against us until we are no more.”

This was a turn of events that didn’t bode well a happy outcome so the word happy was scratched from the dictionary and then people milled about for any outcome.

But when that didn’t come about either the tables were turned to point into the wind where a big tractor was ploughing their minds into docility and the more they watched all this on TV the more servile they became until it was too late and they became sheep for the fodder and told to line up to be branded for the ovens.

The oven masters, surviving remnants of the great holocaust had turned into the master race they once hated and were so powerful no resistance could stand against them. Their war machine bombed its way outwards over the land to steal all it could as the world looked the other way just as it did when Hitler began his push that started the last world war.

End of part nineteen

Images from Pixabay