D: Ho. Be not a furtive Romulan, furt no franks. Be instead a Reman, and a muskrat.
J: We felt once. Nary a scent gland nor an expressed blackhead between us, but we were happy.
D: Not even a scrap of lymphatic tissue. Not a one.
J: But we had each other, so we were happy.
D: We made do with synthetic hormones. 'Tis true.
J: Also pills.
D: But we were happy.
J: We carved out that undefinable space between intimacy and toast.
D: Between companionship and reet funnels.
J: Between amity and green beans.
D: Like forlorn dongles, sitting dust-covered behind a rack of computer hardware.
J: Indeed.
(They sigh and pause.)
D: Sometimes John Willets would ask for a gland in a neighborly way, and we'd have to confess we had not a single squirting gland.
J: Once John-boy Willets stole one of my glands as it was cooling on the window sill.
D: He put on airs, that one. Always acting above his station, taking other people's glands. Is it a wonder he got the DEETH PEENALTY, I ask you? I think not. And him always shaking his ham.
J: Just think of all those good peoples' glands that got fried when he got his come-uppance on ol' sparky.
D: He had a son, didn't he? Seth, I believe. Seth Willets. Took arter his father a mite. Also wound up with the DEETH PEENALTY if I'm not mistaken.
J: I think it were pronounced "sSARTH." Just like that.
D: Yes. And he had a dislike of babies, and the stupid, stupid sounds they make.
J: One arter another waaa, all in unison, never a harmony mind you, until I can't even hear my leberkäse percolate. Brr.
D: Or a chorus of gurgles and coos. What are they trying to say with the babble? Is it that their groenklaper von hoffelter munkler? Or are they just being unintelligible cat sprockets for grey bananas?
J: It's Gerber Industrial Complex shit. I saw it on the innernit. Was on twitterx or maybe telegram.
D: That's all Patagonian disinformation, you know, and they transmit it monthly. If you can get half through, even just half, it's a fortunate spoon.
J: Said they have llamas embedded in huge dusty, red swollen grapes. Cold ones.
D: They take advantage of our unspeakable desires.
J: And they're just a grimace away from the full hambarg. With the keys to the city, no less.
(A short pause as the two peer at each other precariously)
J: Glandularly speaking.
D: Of course, they do seem mighty keen to mete out the DEETH PEENALTY. You mangle one infant and they loose their minds.
J: Two and they call it a full house.
D: Five and they greeble your sarkwiller. And that's not enchanting. Not. At. All.
J: Not something worth discussing on one's wedding night, I gather.
(A very short pause)
D: Eh?
J: You know. They way you want to say things that have never been said. Think things that have never been thought. Do things that have never been done.
D: Ah, the unspeakable desires.
J: Clearly you took genetics at some point.
D: But back to sSARTH. Don't give him a trowel no matter what you do.
J: Not a big one, anyway. Maybe a learner trowel. For his bits.
D: Perhaps. Perhaps yes, a learner trowel might be permissible.
J: If you can find one. If it shows up, we shall waltz with it, the way we do.
D: I believe it is on back order, sir, but I do have three creamed corns and a German wallet.
J: Let me see the wallet.
D: (Proffers wallet) If the leather is of sufficient quality to induce Glasnost, then typically shivery jams and quaking jellies.
J: (Examining wallet) If you think of time as linear, I have just pissed myself. If you don't, I am always pissing myself and not.
D: You're quite avuncular in that way!
J: I am always avuncular and not.
D: The Willets migrated there. And then consumed the buried stories in order to keep them from the papers. Then they grandmas.
J: So we've been told. Some choose to believe it. I know they're wrong, wait and see. Someday we will find it with your psychotic Aunt Betsy.
D: She was a suitcaser in a biblical sense.
J: My friends pop is a psychologist in a biblical sense.
D: Arvin Darbid III is a rascal and a racoon in a biblical sense.
J: Just like John-boy.
D: And all three imbibed umbilical bile in the biblical sense. So help me Jehosephat.
J: Having seen this, I pass the frond to you.
D: I am fond of the frond for 'tis frowned upon as a foundling fondled and found for frottage.
J: But only in the yellow hat, right?
D: Technically, but considering the newer models, I'd take a fünf stumps or a Sydney coach in lieu of a 14-length pant.
J: I'd never take a Sydney coach. And enail, sure, a gabber, maybe, but not a Sydney coach.
D: (nodding) Brush it the wrong way and find out.
J: Me mithers, she stranded its nary at thought to the Bejeezuz and all the implications thereof. So I wait.
D: Thus we may return to our autumnal cottages.
EXEUNT
D: Or a chorus of gurgles and coos. What are they trying to say with the babble? Is it that their groenklaper von hoffelter munkler? Or are they just being unintelligible cat sprockets for grey bananas?
J: It's Gerber Industrial Complex shit. I saw it on the innernit. Was on twitterx or maybe telegram.
D: That's all Patagonian disinformation, you know, and they transmit it monthly. If you can get half through, even just half, it's a fortunate spoon.
J: Said they have llamas embedded in huge dusty, red swollen grapes. Cold ones.
D: They take advantage of our unspeakable desires.
J: And they're just a grimace away from the full hambarg. With the keys to the city, no less.
(A short pause as the two peer at each other precariously)
J: Glandularly speaking.
D: Of course, they do seem mighty keen to mete out the DEETH PEENALTY. You mangle one infant and they loose their minds.
J: Two and they call it a full house.
D: Five and they greeble your sarkwiller. And that's not enchanting. Not. At. All.
J: Not something worth discussing on one's wedding night, I gather.
(A very short pause)
D: Eh?
J: You know. They way you want to say things that have never been said. Think things that have never been thought. Do things that have never been done.
D: Ah, the unspeakable desires.
J: Clearly you took genetics at some point.
D: But back to sSARTH. Don't give him a trowel no matter what you do.
J: Not a big one, anyway. Maybe a learner trowel. For his bits.
D: Perhaps. Perhaps yes, a learner trowel might be permissible.
J: If you can find one. If it shows up, we shall waltz with it, the way we do.
D: I believe it is on back order, sir, but I do have three creamed corns and a German wallet.
J: Let me see the wallet.
D: (Proffers wallet) If the leather is of sufficient quality to induce Glasnost, then typically shivery jams and quaking jellies.
J: (Examining wallet) If you think of time as linear, I have just pissed myself. If you don't, I am always pissing myself and not.
D: You're quite avuncular in that way!
J: I am always avuncular and not.
D: The Willets migrated there. And then consumed the buried stories in order to keep them from the papers. Then they grandmas.
J: So we've been told. Some choose to believe it. I know they're wrong, wait and see. Someday we will find it with your psychotic Aunt Betsy.
D: She was a suitcaser in a biblical sense.
J: My friends pop is a psychologist in a biblical sense.
D: Arvin Darbid III is a rascal and a racoon in a biblical sense.
J: Just like John-boy.
D: And all three imbibed umbilical bile in the biblical sense. So help me Jehosephat.
J: Having seen this, I pass the frond to you.
D: I am fond of the frond for 'tis frowned upon as a foundling fondled and found for frottage.
J: But only in the yellow hat, right?
D: Technically, but considering the newer models, I'd take a fünf stumps or a Sydney coach in lieu of a 14-length pant.
J: I'd never take a Sydney coach. And enail, sure, a gabber, maybe, but not a Sydney coach.
D: (nodding) Brush it the wrong way and find out.
J: Me mithers, she stranded its nary at thought to the Bejeezuz and all the implications thereof. So I wait.
D: Thus we may return to our autumnal cottages.
EXEUNT
I have no idea what I just read lol but I enjoyed it. Funny and has a distinct voice, and it feels like there's signal in the noise whether that's correct or not, which in this case feeling like there is seems more important than whether there actually is anyway.
ReplyDeleteHaha! Yeah, I had a feeling this might be like trying to read something with aphasia or something. I've been trying to experiment a bit with signal to noise ratio, like you just pointed out, and also cases where the noise becomes the signal - something that happens in improvised music sometimes that is almost always fuckin magical.
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