Once upon a time, we decided to have an uncanny contest. It had no rules. Nobody knew what was going on. Mostly women participated, and the other contestants were men. One guy was blowing water from a tube. Another guy was wearing a hat. All this took place in Croatia. The Indonesians in attendance were strictly observing. A kid who was wearing a purple hair-clip got lost in a sunshine tunnel. Ice was melting, and the mascot was visibly drunk. Too many dogs were let in for one single event — we really should have split it into multiple contests. My childhood friend Glen, who is known for his elaborate hoaxes, was altering something on the judges’ robes, seemingly without their knowing. And Doctor Bryan painted his whole body orange.
People were driving luxury vehicles into the yards of local residents, parking directly on their life-sized lawn ornaments, which were shaped like creatures of the jungle. And police were ticketing them (the creatures, not the cars — any ornament that appeared to have died of being parked on received a citation).
Ludwig Wittgenstein was there, as unclad as a statue.
The real-life Mickey Mouse spent the whole time in the ladies room, because his spouse Minnie was having a bad trip: she kept waving around an aluminum rod and trying to bless everyone. “That’s dangerous, Minn.” And she knocked the head right off the kitty-cat idol, over near the hand towels.
Really eerie music was playing. Minnie Mouse then ate Doctor Bryan. Doctor Bryan is now in a time machine. There’s two Bryans somewhere; one is orange and backwards.
Look: the microphones on the stage are ice cream cones. And the actual ice cream cones at the concession stand are black-hole telephones.
Doctor Bryan is on the anti-planet, on the other side of the sun. We know this planet exists a priori because we labeled it. When we discover it, it will be a contingent truth.
Long live everyone who carries a muted boombox.
No comments:
Post a Comment