"WHEREIN ICE CREAM TRUCKS FIGURE PROMINENTLY IN A SMASH UP DERBY" is a fast fiction that aspires to nothing less than your total and absolute enlightenment in under three hundred words.
Helping me out in this humanitarian effort is an artist from my very own stomping grounds of Vancouver, Canada, Mark Delong. He drapes everyday drab with something sublime, drawing everyday objects with a unique attention to detail that God only dreams of. But sometimes he just goes for the brute nature of things, as in this piece:
Are you feeling any of that enlightenment coming on yet ? Okay well here's the fast fiction. See what it does to you. Just remember to repeat this story a thousand times. You will reach a unique state of consciousness.
Enjoy...
While Rick Asa Thompson the Third - a young gentleman whom one might bestow the label filthy, stinking rich upon - inherited all of his family's fortunes, he unfortunatley had none of their intelligence, grace, wit or ability to urinate in socially prescribed places. In short, he was a fan of all things puerile and base, his fascination finding its focus in motion pictures which featured people flagulating each other and then breaking out into laughter as though they were hyenas spasming into hernias.
"Okay the ice-cream trucks should be here at around four, but are you sure you want the Catholic priests driving them ? I mean we've got a couple of girl scouts that know how to drive stick," Sal explained. A twisted carnival of cruelty was slowly taking shape behind him as animals dressed as celebrities, clowns with deliberately dripping makeup and midgets in human hamster balls were herded into place.
"Fuck if I care. I hired you. My job is over. You entertain me, okay ?" Rick Asa Thompson sat in his director's chair sipping from a slurpee. He was anxious for his birthday party to begin. His guests would be arriving shortly with high expectations and he was eagerly anticipating the skeet shooting which would involve blowing up loaves of bread soaked in battery acid. Communion for the birds below which would be their last supper.
He was also looking forward to aggravating his prissy next door neighbour, Lisa Chong, but that night, as the chaos of Rick's birthday carnival died down, Professor Chong took out the earplugs which had afforded her the silence to focus on her cancer studies and it was in those misshapen earplugs that she found a theoretical model which would someday lead to a cure for cancer.
Helping me out in this humanitarian effort is an artist from my very own stomping grounds of Vancouver, Canada, Mark Delong. He drapes everyday drab with something sublime, drawing everyday objects with a unique attention to detail that God only dreams of. But sometimes he just goes for the brute nature of things, as in this piece:
Are you feeling any of that enlightenment coming on yet ? Okay well here's the fast fiction. See what it does to you. Just remember to repeat this story a thousand times. You will reach a unique state of consciousness.
Enjoy...
WHEREIN ICE CREAM TRUCKS FIGURE PROMINENTLY IN A SMASH UP DERBY
While Rick Asa Thompson the Third - a young gentleman whom one might bestow the label filthy, stinking rich upon - inherited all of his family's fortunes, he unfortunatley had none of their intelligence, grace, wit or ability to urinate in socially prescribed places. In short, he was a fan of all things puerile and base, his fascination finding its focus in motion pictures which featured people flagulating each other and then breaking out into laughter as though they were hyenas spasming into hernias.
"Okay the ice-cream trucks should be here at around four, but are you sure you want the Catholic priests driving them ? I mean we've got a couple of girl scouts that know how to drive stick," Sal explained. A twisted carnival of cruelty was slowly taking shape behind him as animals dressed as celebrities, clowns with deliberately dripping makeup and midgets in human hamster balls were herded into place.
"Fuck if I care. I hired you. My job is over. You entertain me, okay ?" Rick Asa Thompson sat in his director's chair sipping from a slurpee. He was anxious for his birthday party to begin. His guests would be arriving shortly with high expectations and he was eagerly anticipating the skeet shooting which would involve blowing up loaves of bread soaked in battery acid. Communion for the birds below which would be their last supper.
He was also looking forward to aggravating his prissy next door neighbour, Lisa Chong, but that night, as the chaos of Rick's birthday carnival died down, Professor Chong took out the earplugs which had afforded her the silence to focus on her cancer studies and it was in those misshapen earplugs that she found a theoretical model which would someday lead to a cure for cancer.
posted by kevin spenst at 12:29 PM
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