Wednesday, October 18, 2017
A white cat hops onto the dinner table. The dinner guests watch in astonishment as this tiny thing swallows a whole roast chicken, a plate of a parsnips, a pumpkin pie, a head of lettuce, a bottle of aperol, a bottle of champagne, a bottle of cognac, a pheasant, a tray of pate, a trunk full of jelly, a washing basket of strawberries, a machine machine of lemon zest, a house full of egg white, and steps off the other end of the table with no sense of indigestion. Perhaps science could reveal the secrets of this cat's marvelous digestion, but nobody's cutting into this white cat, not a chance.
Monday, October 2, 2017
Flowers fall from the tree to coat the path in white and pink. The whole city soon is covered in white and pink petals and they are constantly falling. It is a blizzard of soft white and pink petals. One pushes through and occasionally comes upon a shimmering, moving shape in the petal cloud. Another person, or perhaps a cat. Everyone and everything is covered in petals so it is hard to distinguish, but one can still fell the pulse of another living thing close by. It is a muted world, but far more pleasant than the grey alternative of smog and acid rain.
Thursday, September 21, 2017
I picked a golden daffodil from the ground. I couldn't snap the stem because it was gold, but pulled it out by it's golden roots. I figured Midas must have skipped through here years ago on that ill fated day and brushed past this daffodil. At the hock shop, the scumbag behind the counter looked sceptical about my theory. "An original Midas touched daffodil? I don't know. I could give you 50 bucks."
Monday, September 11, 2017
The cat began to bite it's foot off and couldn't stop. It swallowed it's leg and up onto its torso and soon it had eaten itself completely and disappeared into thin air. Yet it could feel itself there spiritually. It floated over to it's food dish and attempted to cry, but with no throat and no tongue, it emitted no sound. And it computed that with with no teeth and no tongue and no mouth it wouldn't be able to eat anyway. The cat thought about this. If eating and being petted were no longer an option, perhaps now was the time to enrol in that transcendental meditation course at the community centre.
Saturday, September 9, 2017
Crumpled paper in the bottom of my bag. I unfold it and it appears to be a treasure map that leads to a pot of cancer cures at the end of a rainbow. I really like treasure hunts, but I make my living selling expensive cancer treatments and if there are multiple cures for cancer in a pot somewhere at the end of a rainbow I want to be at the other end. If it was proven that I was right there in proximity to the cures and didn't get them scooped up and revealed to the world, or worse still, buried them under a big, big rock, well, it would be bad for PR.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
A tiny fraction of the brain power of an ostrich could be used to power a reactor that could harness the pure power of the sea and make great tsunami waves at will and cure them of their waviness at the drop of a beret also. All of the worlds material, physical problems could be solved by harnessing this power, but unfortunately the ostrich just cannot spare this tiny fraction of brain power. The ostrich has a lot of things on it's mind and feels it might be very close to a breakthrough.
Monday, September 4, 2017
Drinking from the cup of life, I gulp down it's torrid blue waters, they course and make waves inside me, my organs become great ships harried by the storm, tiny pieces of membrane try to man the rafts and keep the oars in place and it's havoc with this wild wind making the territory go upside down but they are hardy sailors and soon calm is restored and the life giving nutrients flow placid and glowing through me and I walk upright and pulsing with virility.