Online Archive  
Issue 4 - April 1972
Head Boil
Roaring at the ears - shoes melting - feet boiling - wrists wrenchy - teeth and jaw moved big and heavy by 85 steaming black slaves, each with a large wooden handle-bit between his teeth and 3 ropes to manipulate - one for each hand and one clasped in both feet - his waist tied down with leather to prevent any unnecessary movement of bum on bench. Thus did I emerge from the night tunnel of restless body movement. What hair growth that is left on my head became steam that wisped past my left eye - a ball that has bounced in and out of many a brain-cover.

"Surely I am not alone!" I screamed in a low and unreadable voice, and, on its return, the echo got grated and serrated through and over multiferous jagged pots that people have built and called chimneys. "Surrrlly - noloan!" might have been the echo's echo but an extremely dirty white coloured Con-dis-corde melted through the flesh of my left ear-lobe on its path to a tasty dish of stewed pound notes, and some of the cooks had chartered it to make sure it got there so I didn't receive the echo's echo.

But the serrated-gration must have sufficiently broken the crust of the brick-broken-mutilated-plastimetal that covers a great deal of the world that is an eyeball and little light yellow green stubs poked through - cos the sun was still there - way up there - even though someone had devised a new kind of force of matter transference and was attempting to move the sun to his own laboratory country where it would be used to grow humlants - in which the old human brain was to be stretched in durable fibrosity and connected inextricably to root and flower - making rings of energy that took their partners for a waltz or a flexitrot and multiflied their species by being fried on a plasetal plate whose temperature was so great that they never actually touched it but skimmed over, coming off the other side as more-than-when-they-started.

Notwithstanding for that this is predictably possible, the little light yellow green bumpouses poked their little selves up (or out, whichever scale you are looking at the plane terrain of the global strain with for) and waved to each other as a positive signal. And on the third day, some men who thought this to be a favourable sign went forth to water the bumpouses and to bring them to their maturity and wholesomeness.

But they should have used ethylene glycol land not water since the bumpouses were a very, very new phenomenon and the little bumpouses melted and formed an impenetrable crust in that area which, from that time on, served to remind the silly pea-brained man species that new thinking is needed for new times.

Ron Geesin