Dendronica | Dendronitis
You tell me...

  1. The first time the vase cracked?
    Round two to the Shasta syndrome too
  2. How season's change ~ Birdie's Nest
  3. Turn-ups from Turnips ~ TBI'ed into Reality?
  4. Next generation simply ~ The paragraph? P/Boddity Arival
  5. Dendronical Complexity ~ The Newveaux
  6. Dendronitis Debuts ~ As the bawl of twine unravels
  7. What happens next is beyond all perception
  8. Epilogueus

The first time the vase cracked?

When time began it was a dance recital and wasn't he actually a girl? Incredibly doubtful, it wouldn't make sense if he was, might it? Even if he was less than 1% typical, and there were those absurd pictures of his infant self having an abnormally large scrotum. He always assumed it was like an eyeball…even if he was riddled with doubt. Classic mainstream, he was recovering from the scoot-scoot and the doctor said. "If you were a girl these would be very startling numbers, thankfully you are a man."

What we're those questionable numbers? He assumed it had to do with vitamin E, or Iron. It'd seemed rather simple to confirm, this is fiction afterall, he just wasn't destitute for reality. There was also that time when he was in the Apple and thought he'd contaged a gnarly STD, the doctor there said. "No you have what is rather common, for women mind-you..." and wrote him a perscription.

When he was at the pharmacy the pharmacist said, "you don't need a perscription for that, it's just Monostat."

"I'd perfer you just fill the script." Was his only retort, it only felt acceptible when it was just assumed an anominous tube of lotion.

When it resurfaced he'd often just accepted the errent itch, it had to get extreme for him to breakdown. Funny he'd even had trouble using self-checkout where almost none would witness him, and because it was so irregular they'd assume it wasn't for him.

He adapted to having what he dubbed as 'manginal yeast'...when your the only one, you get dub rights, right?


His world dawned at the dance recital, but this story debuts in the manWhole. Where him and brotherJohn had shared a well balanced three year's together but it wasn't a bromance they were thirsting in life. "We're not trying to be anything, but their are certainly things we're not." He'd say with a playful drawl emphasising the not.

"I hear that," was all brotherJohn'd respond. They fit so symbiotically which is why it didn't surprise either of them when three years had slipped off the calender.

So tell me, wait...when did this story begin? "You're making too many slides," he laments ferviscously, "shouldn't a proper story should just have one angle of perception?" Which by nature this inherently was even if Billy Pilgrim had become unstuck in time.

When first time debuted he was a rambunctious child spawning in the mews of life. He was captivated by creationism and was always driven to discover...long before he could drive. To which he descended from it's very inception, the world you know and cherish so well. It dawned at a dance recital, but the story you'll delve upon began at the dusk of the manWhole.

That all means almost nothing to you, though all absolutely is relative and each has their own perception and heard of it atleast once before, despite how obscured it feels to most. The manWhole was just a north pLand little abode in Settle, where him and brotherJohn shared their bromantic lifestyle which delved into absolution and smelled a little funky.

Who was he, is a quintessential question, one you'll naturally assume just in your partake of his story. His story...whacktastic weird note of reality, which he too was unearthing as each potential page evolved. All which you might naturally assume, though what that might be he enjoyed toying with.

Time could continually easily have alluded him and brotherJohn, but they were looking for a less atypical classically gay defining relationship. They had no interest in sleeping with one another and doubted they'd ever. He realized waggling reality with a dictionary was potentially irksome and dauntingly irreverant but he perceived that he'd probably only reach those who might assume their own definitions. That was possibly contrary to reality, he was regularly cross-firing at least one.

He loved twisting the possibility or practicalitally of everything, which was deeply why you're desiring to allude, though he long since accepted his irregular existence. Really he was simply a rube, maybe taller than most, but basically he was part of you too.


What that might allude even he would daunt; want, desire, production were all the fundamental tools that wring us regularly, as we're each as much the towel we hung to dry after using it. That's a level of perception deeper than he desired, but reality can sting.

When this world formatted he was driving east back to BeenTown it was the route of his intension and he felt it so fitting of a title even if most prefered the normal nomanclature. Unfortunately for them this story was existing from one perspective despite your eyes expressing a relatively different one of their own.

His nephew Ty had been ambling about for long enough to discover his existence, that seemed a dignified reason even if it was just another of his classic lashes at definition. He was actually leaving just because they were dissolving the manWhole and he hadn't anywhere else to flock.

Lefty was moving to pLand proper, brotherJohn needed a more grounded approach to conquering the next phase of life. He was systematically driven like that, first he established his career. Nothing more dignified and humble then grounding as a school teacher. Helping the next generation as it starts meddling with more complex notions of reality, like a foreign language or the brash scope of history, mathematics, science, art, you name it.

Two of the great beauties of life, as we fold into the mesh we communally call reality. "One day your going to realize the mistakes you so regularly relapse upon." Was lamented in the mirror though, "God, are you going cray-cray?" Was his only response. It would be nice to have people to help engrandeur this. He lemented and thought of love. This trip should atleast exist with a her, he regularly pined. Though he wasn't yet aware of any lesbianese conflict, though that was a confusion that hadn't come close to dawning on his awareness.

That was a fair part of what drew him, and he did have a few potentials around the states. Belle wasn't very likely anymore...they'd let it simmer on the stove when she first moved to Cali. It had only been six months, they might rekindle that flame, but he'd met when she was leaving.

And though they spent an epic impromptu weakend camping on the peninsula, her last week in north pLand. He felt they'd let it simmer for too long and though he wouldn't shy from calling her after he'd gone significantly down the coast...before heading east.


He didn't understand why love was so complex that he'd difficulty dictating it fictiously. In fiction hasn't one their way of manipulating the scope that it might reflect what their looking for. Reality didn't have that luxury, everything always happened for a reason. Not that it's complex, just two adults. One might simply be pretending for the other. Isn't that our oldest occupation? However it learns to define itself, primarily through some form of embelishment or another is required...and this isn't reality.

Several times love guided his hand to hers, though often it was misproportionatly geared, one of them was always head over heals while the other just liked them. Once he was swept away but it was overseas and he didn't speak his native tounge grammatically taking up a foreign one?, that was long out of his qualifications. That and he'd squandered his senior year of college and felt a primordial drive to finish it, as if it ever meant much of anything.

As if the squander weren't more than the very subject we're flossing upon/with and the fashion by which it's persenting itself to you. While time timidly trebles on into key, the ones that unlock our perception into something grander as well as the ones that inspire us to tap our toes, or even read these words.

So he pandered often on the subject of love lost and in part it was maybe why he was heading back to where he grew up, though he gave the honors to his nephew's new found inclusion of speech in his repetoire, he fealt it'd be right for him to have an uncle.


Nothing is quite as grounded as the places you first came to realize all that was existing beside you. Ty should be allowed to say that's my uncle, not that's my uncle?. That was a dignified reason to enter into the void of remission though it wasn't one he'd founder for several weeks, if ever. Until then he'd only the twilight of his youth which fawned graciously into said illumination.

When attention strayed he appreciated the reminder that he'd only the road that parts this country into parcels, even if he did nothing else but parry, it'd still take him atleast four days. Though given his current rate of progress...each day his goal was just, to find a disc-golf course in whichever state he found himself.

To reader's whom scratch their head's over such a concept, he'd feal sorry for you. Fundamentally it's the same game as ball golf. But instead of a ball and clubs for a hole it was aeronautic plastic discs aiming for a basket perched three feat off the ground. Something he'd learned of at the manWhole from Lefty and cherished.

When he was a child ball golf betrayed him when he hadn't realized his proximity to his cousin who was hitting a classic 5-iron fairway shot. The club intercepted his face on the down stroke of the swing. He'd been pandering his cousin and was crouched giving unintentionally ideal proximity for the club head speed to generate impact.

He remembers just insisting he needed only a band-aid and the horrified respounding looks from his cousins, before presumably he just slouched into one of his first memorable flashes. One of those moments that's so extreme, all the perceived witnesses lament how horrible and ridden it must feel. For the one who's experiencing it. There is none, it passes like a bizarre flash in the pan.

Life has no shortages of turns in it's road, probably why he never felt dishearted when it fealt perdictable, that's when lightening was bound to strike.


Life simplified...being drive to a course enroute back east, play a round, drive to the next fleebag motel for the next misery night. Rinse and repeat. Like any quality brand of soap or shampoo that promotes it's redundancy, but when it kept making him feal good. It's hard to prove that it's wrong, even if he felt solidly it only took a few days between showers for the cap of dignity to start teetering.

To which he'd only rinse and repeat, life wasn't that complex. He was twisted by what other's might perceive considering that naturally we hum upon a familiar tune's. Though what style is it today, rap, raggae, blues, the list might roll on but he'd only the radio of where-ever he was at that given time.

Sorry if it's not been clear who he was or where he was going, even he wasn't sure, it was the fleeting nature, he just had growing anticipation of something happening. But for now it was just a westcoast course, nooking around the errent trees of the park. And stoic cascade perches looming into ravines.

He hadn't a name even, he was birthright a title, which you probably know from the metaphorical dust-jacket. Though it being metaphorical who's to say it even exists and we haven't even dawned upon this guys birthday...too fitting, all you might learn. Though all you should know is that he felt names were the obligations of others.

He was often capable of knowing when a person was talking to him. Often they dawn their own nomenclature's, though he prefered the lax perception of rules and order. This entire piece flounders within such as it's tank of existence. To which we all shrug, Yeah that sorta makes sense... Not really but isn't it foul keeping score with art, even if it's lexically challenged.


He knew he should be calling Belle but he felt he should already be ambling on the north ridge before reaching out to contact her. Before he didn't say anything because it'd already been a silent four months. Before he even realized it might be time to roll on.

He didn't want her to have the preception that they were more than having a night, which would later come into folds for him. Though he tought if they had rekindled in his first bout of awareness, he might have been lured just there.

When he sent the letter, it was two days before he exuented and she'd still not responded, he did have her digits but she'd established her new Cali lifestyle. He wouldn't be surprised if that had come at the price of her Settle phone number.

He was a strong believer in the growing anonyminity, he'd've clung to the 617 but his town gave it up to 781 before he'd his own phone, he didn't feel any birthright to an area-code. When he stumbled upon 360 he thought that was the ideal and clung to it.

Though still he dialed her Settle number from when he first met her and wasn't surprised to hear the operator recording of "We're sorry..." Nature of the beast He chided himself for not having the limb to perch upon.


He'd lost expectation at the recital and it's uncertain he ever regained it, but all that is probably well beyond our understanding, unless it's already been written, to which congrats on finally reaching that level of accomplishment, despite it having regularly been doubted by himself. Was he begging to fail, so that way he wouldn't be crestfallen if it did. Such were the questions that life was eager to splurge amongst it's occupants.

Which may have been a regular sigh until his phone did finally ring, it wasn't the Belle he'd hoped it might be, but it was the black widow in the Milky and equally alluring. To which one might state several adages upon, to which it didn't really matter because it was fiction afterall. The name was one she'd donned herself when Tommy passed?

Who he was, was only relevent to her history, and considering this tale is of anothers, he can only grasp with the minutia of a name. This wasn't about her past even if she was the sooth sayer who could easily tweek his future.

"You didn't cause that macabre," even if the melocholy left her a side role in his reality. "Though you could be more whimsical," she spun though it was still a few weaks until such words might be interated.


"I have a disturbing reality," she told him his once, "it's where I got these." She said as she revealed her arm which she'd always had sleaved independently. It was one of the things that intially'd attracted him to her.

A little quirk that he'd assumed was fashion based though concealment makes a fair amount of sense, when she took it off that first time. "Them's some crazy scars you got." He garbled when she first revealed them and it gave the twisted flirtation.

"It's a homemade tatoo I've made for them." She clarified for him being ellusive graciously.

"It's gnarly, in the granlsomist way possible." He responded in a way that seemed playfully embracive.

"Do you want to know who they are?" she quivered. Clearly she'd plenty she might say but their stories hadn't interwined in this perspective yet, and it was all being realized from his. Her perception was grander than most, and he felt certitude that it would embelish his own story. Though that still was just on the chalkboard for now it was simply a phonecall.

"Who sounds a whole can of worms. You'll tell me if you think I need to hear or I'll learn as I get to know you. But the enigma and allure holds the cup of drama. We can take it one sip at a time. What you looking to chug some to get a buzz?"

"You are biggest tallest stranger I've ever gotten to know, even when I totally don't get you, Bilbonicles was that what you called yourself."

"Today it's Bilbonickclick-ees, but tomorrow?"

"That is one of your silliest plays on reality." She pandered to which you might presumably scratched your own head, even if it was only a metaphoric itch you were having.


His flirtation with Angel, the black widow of the Milky began when he still skirted the manWhole. She was a nice reminder of what potentials could be perceived of himself, though she also was one of the few people that found a way to playfully over engage. He wouldn't classify it as sexual assault, a man has flacid abilities that might easily moot.

It didn't and she took full advantage, she also took cogniscence of his plan to be trubidoring across the country in the near future. He was still well out of reach when she phoned in her offer that he might stop. Something of which he liked, despite the expectation of their encounter Belle seemed to've been ellusive, it wasn't as if he found her unattractive.

Though tonight had found itself nestled upon a states border and he was tuckered from his round and the massive expanse of desert upon which he'd hopped in his Maz. He understood how transient and casual the shift transpired, life simply was. To which he simply pleased each moment, this time especially because the rate was being halved due to an electrical malfunction and that being simply all he had, to which you scratch your head again.

"Wait what?" he snarfed to this questionable suspect of a hotel proprietor.

"Yeah the machine broke, doesn't actually process requests or something. We got it called in but it's still under repair."

"Okay," he churned and it offset incredibly

Time lost it's grip on his perception of reality, what happened will clearly be unclear, not to leave the water milky with the residue of his awareness. He most certainly had undertaken one of his first major steps and you should be able to clearly see that even if it is foggified unclear where that step might lead to.

It started that location, just a tweaksome independent branch. He had sworn off corporate, typically guising that it usually saved the consumer twenty bones going independent and it was all the same, "it's just a bed your shelling out fifty bucks for," he'd quip to justify, "I could easily sleep in my car or the curb if I needed, it's all lux to begin with."

He should of realized that, not that it ever mattered much but his perception wasn't that jaded yet, even if he did have a few flagship relics, the gold toe, slightly imperfect. To which he never soured, but that was not for quite a while if ever, for now it was just a night at this Sleep-Easy motel.


When he pulled in to the Shasta Lodge as it was properly knonwn he didn't think there was anything alarming about the place. Sure it did have a slightly desserted nature but he just chalked it up to his late afternoon timing. He just parked his car full of life, and stumbled in. The foyer was empty but he didn't need do much but knock on the counter before someone arrived.

"Yeah, what you needing slender?" He was addressed with which he fealt uncertain about. Isn't it obvious?

He would consider him gruff but the nature of the beast felt benign. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that he was on work-release through a penetentiary. Though such an assumption wouldn't cross his mind. He just quipped the words and bills to establish his room.

"Our computer's squirting the fritz, we're cash only tonight?" Tonight or everynight? He questioned to which he didn't parry.

"Well this is all I'm holding, or it be time to just ramble on closer to the GrandC?" He didn't falter, he did notice a strange tattoo on his neck but shrugged it off. People are covered with tattoos. It wasn't an attempt of being orthodox, he just recognized he wouldn't feel the same way about one in three months, let alone 15 years, so he just waited until it established itself.

Their was this lady he knew who loved the idea of having a small star beside her left lash but she was raised kosher and felt it a sin so instead she just made temporary drawings with pens in her spare time. One doodle she loved, but age is apparant, a process we all partake. By her fifties she lost interest in maintaining it, but it never left her.

Either way he did find it awkward, what seemed a deadbeat empty motel, his room happened to be right next door to where there was one other resident. 'Was this some way to give me peace that I'm not alone in here,' his thoughts scrambled. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, all he knew was that he paid a man almost fourty dollars to spend the night there.

It made sense that is what he'd do, he'd always felt tenacious about what the world has planned for him, but he felt steadfast that it was always just going to be at the edge of your fingertips, you haven't the reach to control where it's going. We can nudge it but it's always fleeting just outside of our grasp.


So he accepted the uncontrolable nature, and just went foraging for food instead. All he found was an asian-style mainstream. He reasoned a few things that might constitute a meal and placed it to go as he ventured further before the night finallized scrawling a packet of Newpies and a few tallboys of brew that he thought might ease the transition into his deadbeat new digs.

"Oh you new resdent for the Shasta." He was confronted by the head of the Deelites.

"Excuse me?" He countered.

"Shasta that place I saw you comin from" He quipped elluding up the street where he'd sauntered.

"Nah, I think there's someone in the room next to mine."

"Them always there, make it seem more hospit." He said before turning the subject of conversation which he was ready to sprawl from. He didn't suspect grim thought, there was something playfully mischievous, but he wasn't willing to burn himself the bills for childish fears.

That was before he got back to the room.

When he did it confounded as he naturally slipped over to slide the doorlock that should ground ones solidarity for the night. It wouldn't and actually appeared quite questionable to begin with. A cheap aluminum not solid metal that looked wonkishly restored from having been broken in, in the past.

"That's sketchtastic" he schnookered, then he noticed the door. An older custom perk where a family might add the adjacent room and connect them internally. 'Well, if I open that door and there isn't another closed door on the other side of it, then it's starting to get questionable.'


He flipped open his side of the door and schnookered, it open to the pressence of another room and the sound of the TV echoing. Shit, is somebody in there? he thought but could only gulp as he instantly started to close the door. What in the farkle? He mimed to the momment that shattered his vase of perception.

As the door started closing the other side reacted to the movement. "What are you doing?" The voice pandered as if it might strike for this outlandish behaviour.

"I'm sorry, I just moved in here, just seeing what all these door's is." He plead not knowing what might develop.

"Well this one leads here." He appeared to grimice in his imagination.

"OK" he lapsed as he closed the door. "Sorry to disturb you." He pandered closing himself out of range. WTF he exumed. Time to roll on, I don't want to die in the styx and have had a little time to recuperate I'm ready to roll on.

Though as he was coming to terms with the adjacent room and the mangled lock, he thought he was also just being extrememly neurotic and he already expected this was a shmeggy dump even though this was extremer. He would rather simply accept the hands of fate and do what he might to protect himself. After all he already was debuting on his second tallboy when shit started decorating by the fan, so he probably wasn't highly qualified to drive either way.

He decided to step back and walk out front. He glimpsed that man, he wasn't burled. Though perhaps was capabled of doing heaps of questionable activities. It wasn't presumed, he felt if he was wronged it would be theft of sorts. He didn't know the extent to which some jaded urchin on the corner of the world might act.


Then they made contact for a second time, later which he might discover was the actual realer time. He'd conviently gone our for a smoke, when he was being periphrial. "You that guy living next door?" Was gruffed.

"Living's kinda a bit grander," he parried. "Really more just spending the night on my long route eastbound. You call this diggs home?"

"Yeah, this be my middle of nowhere. Frank's the name, and you?" He outstretched his paw for him to introduce himself. Why did introductions always require contact. He accept his grip while expecting it to be significantly more firm than it was.

"That's really more your decision, Bohbz is what I'm goin as these days but it can be just about anything. Really I simply exist for the I of the beholder, though that's deaper than even I know, so really you can call me what you like, Bohbz, Bri-guy, Franky J if that's your jig."

"Your done one firlant ball of wax." Frank schtymied, not the man you were expecting and neither was I.

"Whatever that is, enjoy the chance of learning something new with you Frank."

"You as well Franky J, no for reals what do your parents call you?"

To which naturally he relayed and they had a formal handshake, take care was their parting message, and he fealt a bit assured before he lay in a questionable bed with paranoia quivering constantly through his sentiments. Jerking him regularly into reality, he teetered on what would be understood as responsible behaviour.

To which he always assumed, you are where you are, wheather or not it's the right place to be. To which he chided, good luck.


"You think creeping on me, that just gonna slip past." He said with a salivating grimace which instintly unnerved him.

"Holy shitzki," He said astonished by that man standing in his own room beside him. "Didn't we have a momment Frank, Franky? Where did you come from?" He jaded while catching the open intermediary door.

"Fortunately for you only a nightmare." He said before presumably stabbing him with what he only assumed was some sort of blade before noticing it was actually just a remote control. "Thanks for the decorative ride my billy goat Franky J'll love using it as a shithouse." He grimaced as the channel of his life started changing.

That wasn't his first flash, but when he came to it was still just 11:15 at night. He chided at his wonky noise alarms he'd established with chairs and trashcans. He had no desire to see if his dream might become a reality. A chill already ratiated, he didn't need it to spread. He'd already enough twists in his existence thread.

That night he learned the suseptibal nature of the chain, it feels really unlikely you'll disappear in a corporate branch. Though at the independent Shasta, people could disappear. Was that computer broken for a reason. The more he thought about it the more he fealt the night was doomed and he didn't need to trade life for thirty-seven dollars.

In the morning he felt justified for his errent change of location, it's not as if I had much choice he pandered. It felt like foolish behavior, but if it makes you happier, then it's worth it, he decided. 'We don't need to prove that we can be wrong yet.' His voice chided, as he started venturing closer to the center of the coutry. One of many hearts even if the Angel's felt a little threatening.


Is that all that really happened? He'd expected the Shasta Syndrome to be grander than simply a few obscure flashes, shall we rewind and reveal what actually occured, or is the mystery what alures the inquisitive mentality.

All will be revealed but it should be reinforced his steadfast brutsome ways which he does eventually pander to the Motel7 or does he? That's not clear at all right now. Now it seems a bunch of weird random stuff occurs and he just jets, moves on as he might ramble.

Given what you chose to believe and how this character might act and how this make-believe reality might respound. Not that society isn't self-regulated itself and reactionary. Regularly he witnesses errent flips as chance simply rolls the dice as he rolls along with them.

He knew the truth would unravel but he feels sternly that for this chapter to make sense and be self sufficient it needs to be grander and more realistic. Perhaps he wasn't comfortable with his mutation skills, even if he was capable of mutating.

He'd wish to leave it up in the air but he feels that will simply be interpreted as lost, people aren't interested delving into what they perceive as tainted as it taints all over the place. Though he should embelish the two hosts, the counter and the jest, because that shouldn't mean totally nothing to you.

Perhaps it is learning which conduires curiousity, which lures each page into existence. Though he'd insist that it was always embelished justifications which were capable of hitting the ball out of the park.

That wasn't exactly the same game though, it's true that games were one of the grounding staples of his existence. If he wasn't regularly unraveling, he wouldn't know where and what he might be directed doing. It was the same meriment of fate where we found ourselves.


How season's change
Birdie's Nest

It was nice going with an intended direction. He was happy to freelance that was his behavior, but he would do that either way. Though just because he'd always a path to follow, didn't give him constant unexpected turns in the voyage. This flutter northbound fitting such an alteration in his journey back east.

His was to the Milky on the edge of the great lakes but a good hour and a half from their metaphorical coasts. Their Angel had a crooked flower broken but gifting him. He was awed by the simplicity and the dextricality. He wasn't sure if it was a lilac or a tulip.

"Duh, that's a sunflower." She informed him dafted.

"But don't they have a large bulb like area?"

"Yeah and it does. Dur, you just expecting the Eastie." He asked if he was simply thinking aloud. "Your always somebody else." She simply lamented.

"And yet here I am still me." He ladeled and was pleased upon their play on the moment together. "We should find a little vas," he said expressing that pronounciation of vase.

"What chu talkin bout?" She reverberated off him playfully.

"The truth is always further than we can preceive. Though is it communal?" He toyed.

"Now I don't know what your talking about." She squared back to him now with a slightly more def grimace.

"It don't actually matter." He accepted.

"Everything matters..." She started

"Or simply is," he finished adding one last top to their lexical game. Which now she wasn't sure of it's iterpretation. To which he simply didn't have the premis to cognigate.


Angel swung him across her palm and in that embrace he stumbled into Birdie. She was just a plain girl who was all he would ever learn to desire. They did start slowly but it was all in what seemed to be the right direction.

Technically it was a coincidence, Angel was trying to debut with a bowling night to dissuede the dellusion that they were there to be together. Birdie was going through a dreary seperation with her childhood romance that lingered for several years to long.

It came down to having a child which her partner felt was mando, she just felt permanence which she'd already been questioning for years, often she dwelled on the college years when they'd been apart and finally it was over. He'd been just incredibly difficult to leave always creeping and pitching euphamisms. He knew several trump cards he'd regularly play.

This little night out felt a gauranteed aversion, though naturally Drexler happened to stumble upon them. He didn't mean to but he got awkwardly stuck between them and unintentionally he shined. Despite Angel taking the whole evening differntly.

"Your good between the sheets for me, but that's all." She lamented after two days of his todling in the Milky.

"Is that your way of asking me to leave." He rebuked, assuming that it was probably his time to reembark on his unintentional conquest for regrounding himself and perhaps his nephew.

"If I don't want you here I'll just throw you out, your good for somthing though not really much," she retorted playfully.

"Ouch, you playing hard ball."

"Something hard with balls sounds possible, though it really is on just about every corner to a proactive girl."

"They have that perk though it just makes her questionable, and I'm guessing there's plenty I'm not interested in learning."

"I can save you the drama."

"Don't, it's in it where joy so regularly hibernates." He quickly rationalized and this irked her more than either would see fitting.

"Sure you want to risk waking emotion, even if it seems to be the best one."

"Thats lamer than sacrificing points in domino's, and I already know you're interested in the pole position." This he garnished with a smile, lexically he counter suiting her.

"Depends on which one we are talking about." She said as she accepted with her hands on his trousers.


It started promising but jaded, he didn't imagine she was interested in more then physically him and she was definitely raising questionability as to how much he might wish mingiling with her physiologically, not that she was trampy.

"Who do you think you are talking to?" Was asked frank to the point that he doubted who was standing across from him.

"I guess it's Angel, though I'm leaning towards a more basic living sitch, you are just a good night?" He tawdled.

"We're both a good night but you are at best a basketcase and I don't need help carrying my groceries."

"Well maybe, Birdie might use my cheerful assistence."

"You really are dreaming, that's not even her fracken name Beanie but considering we're standing beside one other."

"And that's not even mine? Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Your the brainiac, enlighten us, if you might." She petered, but he just left to give Birdie that potential she'd playfully suggested the night prior.

It was less than a day but then he couldn't see any reason to leave. He'd crossed half the country, his nephew would have plenty of opportunities. Even if that was his primary reason, he couldn't sacrafice this unknown, afterall, it felt like something some spend their lives searching for.

It started with just a strange interuption. Birdie was the last column of the scorecard and he was the first, she hadn't intended anything and it makes sense why Angel might have established such an order.

So he was going to the rack as she finished her frame. Though there was this guy who happened to be right in his way. He didn't know why he was perched there, though quickly she did. "What?" was all she'd prole.

"Nothing, just surprised I'd run into you here of all places." Drexler just shrugged.


"Well your not the only one in a traffic jam here." He replied as he started to the lane and this new Drexle was in his path, the space was convoluted with all the pressence.

"Sorry, I'm in your way bro?" He hummed trepidously as he scoped this tall new stranger who daunted over him on route to the lanes.

"I'm getting the impression your in everybodies way, who ever you are." Was all he'd conjure in the moment to this new abstraction.

"Whoever I am? Who is this guy?" Drexle fawned as people like Angel and Bidie were no strangers to him.

"Was next in line to roll but now, who knows how much else more." He quivered as he too appeared to size up his newest counter.

"Drexle stop this, all of it." Birdie just grimaced totally scattered like a mist across the lane.

"Yeah Drexle bub, looks you've found the wrong alley and I don't wanna be that guy."

"Oh you threatenen me now, what you her new man?"

"All I'm is, is a guy trying to get a strike. I just met this beautiful Birdie, we aren't involved with each other more than our first game. But considering the scoreboard we're close, I don't know if I'll have her, we're not more involved than that, yet."

"Yeah Ang said he might be staying and need a room." Birdie replied to which sounded curt and heavily unexpected. Might there really be a potential reason to magnify their personal awareness, to which he awed.


If she needed just a housemate he was happy to exorcise that deamon but was there a cross which hadn't been mended.

When he arrived in the Milky he had just been endowed by the Shasta syndrome. He didn't know how he might explain that so this was even further from comprehension. This was beyond his, it just felt like a tingle of desire.

What happened though is actually quite simple. He descended from darkness into the arms of Angel the black widow of the Milky. That was an adage that he'd dorned for her though she'd surprisingly not scoffed much. She nurtured desire but there was an unresolved conflict, she was the black widow and he'd already been bitten. This was the reason why she clearly had a cross of interest. He however was far too young to understand, even now it still shades explanation.

He was nibbled, but was already bit so didn't succomb. Strange that Birdie would hap upon them when she did, though he couldn't feign surprise as they delved whole heartedly into that mystical amore. All he knew how to do was smile which she was seemed happy to share with him.

That first night when he stood in Drexler's way. He wouldn't realize how much that meant to her, or his choice of words. 'We're not involved yet.' An unintentional perdiction which she played with the open room card that he was actually willing to dive upon.

"You weren't supposed to move in here," she quipped on his first night there.

"Are you kicking me out before sharing our first official night?" He asked jaded by the reality that casually dropped in front of him. "I know I'd intended to go back east but here we are and I might be doing some good in the process."

"I don't need to be living with another guy, Drexler is still fresh. Aren't you supposed to be with Ang anyway?" She plead.


"I don't think she's that into me, I don't got that hardcore edge that she primals on. We we're just a flash in the pan." He accepted the slight nuantic differences between them. And Birdie was a grand new sunshine he felt was just breaking on the horizon.

"Well, I wouldn't expect much from me, I'm done with having a man for awhile."

"Cheers to that Birdie, but should you prey don't just fall down the same rabbithole with this Drexler fellow. That clearly hasn't worked and I don't need to be tooting our trumpets, but comeon, we could just start with having a good random night."

"Like last night?" She blushed cheekly.

"I don't need to flutter butterflies Birdie. I just really love the thought of us delving deeper in each other's awareness. However that might define itself."

"It's words like those I find so attractive, but ugh, I don't just need another man right now." She twisted because even in that statement she embraced him.

"Well then maybe take up dating women." He parried to which she had a well grounded laugh and happily shared it with him.

"Maybe it'll just start out a week at a time and I'll kick you out if I need to."

It had been a month in his mind when nearly a year had scratched the calender. "Are you kidding me?" He asked her playfully though unexpectedly she was suddenly curt.


"I'm starting to get the impression you're the one who's hosing me." She quirted so disgustingly abrupt.

"What," he verclemphed.

"What I want to know is what? What are you doing? Why are you still this same slovenly romantic? Life is serious. You can't constantly be wheeling on your heels. You've been here a year and we started building a sandcastle but these days you're just pissing in the sand."

"So this is because I haven't found my resolution?"

"You barely make sense, you're abstract and a good way to spend a sour evening. But is that just all?"

"Your right, I don't get why I haven't been able to find a steady job."

"It's because you haven't even looked. You took those few errent oppertunities you did have one decent bout with the caterer's, then you stopped getting called because you were lushing kids."

"Just because I won't card people at a wedding, I'm getting thrown out." He butted mootly.

"You know it's more than that." She herself now quivering a defense of her own.

"I'll do what I can. Whatever that might be." He felt defeated when only a moment ago he was in the clouds now he'd fallen trepidatiously back to the ground.

"Well show me, just playing with words doesn't conjure anything more than snowflakes in what's become one of those snow-globe things and I wished a beach on a private volcanic island, which unfortunatly isn't erupting but it's making me. Is that clear enough for you, always riding your lexical pony, or does all that need to be wrapped in another metaphor?"


That was the harshest and most radically free spoken as she'd ever been. It was like a sledgehammer, that when it slapt his heart he fealt the crack simply resonate across it. He realized that he was so deluded in the mutual dream that time simply slipped like a side-effect of their deuality. As life barely glimmered.

This realization that he might lose her before ever really having the amore that was brimming in their eyes. Fealt a tragic twist of fate that he wasn't ready to accept but might not have much of a choice.

It turned out what he could do was very simple though he hadn't realized yet. He convinced himself he'd just get another day job like a typical six hour shift at Brugie's or a more independent where he could practice the art of a latte.

The first few days were a headache of relics he needed a grift like the last two, one was a young juvi his eyes did all the talking and the other was a nice man who got picked up coincidentally just before he might ask him on a date.

When it came to the base tones of a subject he wasn't really much more than a squeeze, even if he was totally competent. He could understand why Smoothy Mike, and Rodney Dangerous were his two main customers at either of those branches. Though uncovering his history wasn't his objective his objective was to found a meaningful love with Birdie, but it was still uncertain why he should pick that of any name to call her.


It started in the wake of his first Drexler encounter. Unintensionally he'd laid a great foundation for its awkardity. It only took one silent frame before he initially but she greatfully diverted. "I did"

Was all he might utter before she put her fingers on his lips in a surprisingly primal lushish fashion. "I'm the one who should say something,"

"Yes," was all his reply.

"I shouldn't have bowled, I'd seen him but wouldn't give him the satisfaction and then he just got in the way. I was being stubborn."

"And you have every right to be he's a wankerdoodle and your a birdie, having a night with a crooked sunflower." He replied in earest which Angel hog washed and she spooned. The others fawned, and she considered kissing him but nipped her own wrist foolishly.

"You're just a sunflower?"

"D'uh-yeah" he drawled playfully which Angel ired. "Just as much as you is my Birdie."

"Well that's not actually my name. But if you like I'll respond but only you may call me that." She waggled her finger which he almost misinterpretted, but he didn't feel the need to start with their lines crossing.

"Then our future starts unveiling itself, while we match perfectly dressed." This made them smile and at first it seemed so easy to relish in such a notion.


Then he happened upon being a dasher. It was just a matter of days and a new twist of reality when he changed his priorities, and he just needed her to suggest walking. He thought he was just being a romantic and overseas, as a child it was acceptable.

Though he left her considering he never had the innitiative to make himself low on the totem pole. He'd considered a few positions but hadn't done much more than volunteer.

"Look it says all I need is a scooter and I can start delivering tomorrow. Those things are like eight hundred bucks and I'll start hauling, how bad could it be, actually now that I think about it, I've always loved riding."

The next day it only took a half hour of craigslist to find a rig for seven seventy five, he insisted he pay the guy two dollars to give it the lucky seven charm. "Consider it the first tip this little hummer will earn in my keep."

Being a dasher was simple he'd follow google maps to some restauraunt or business that those who knew dashed for desired. There he'd pick up whatever they'd ordered and follow the google maps to their address. It was simple. People accepted the minimum four dollar surcharge+tip to the dasher and everybody went home happy.

This worked out splendidly for close to two years. The coldest months of the winter he was allowed to be more homeward bound, though on her days off she'd make him just use her car for the days off that she wanted her private time.

He accepted but longed for the weather to clear working fulltime on a scooter, was better than any. He just was being respectful because he was neck deep in love, then suddenly six weeks past in the blink of an eye. Like he'd over shadowed Ty's development for this glimpse of romance, naturally eventually Ty would understand.


It was unthinkable, and at the same time obvious. It only took three years of this newfound existence to revel in such a reality. What he thought made sense didn't, and how it all came into such formation was too improbable.

You cant stop your perception. We have countless perceptions, but we only perceive one. What does yours require? He was taught existence required simply a physical being, he witnessed as grandparents and unfortunate were absolved of theirs. He thinks of Alfan Blumdy who he thought was the first he'd known go. Though his father's mother twilit though hers seemed the natural procoess pf age.

He felt obscene just toying with a possibility though in the moment it was something new...which doctors like to call an invisible scar. The pragmatic nomenclature was pronounced simply TBI, though he got to learn that there were two and in all probability several more if he wished to gander and delve.

Life is quirky enough the doctors reasoned but each was astonished by his recovery, several people after severally less tragic accidents, won't do more than drool perched in front of a window.

Thankfully he was a dasher and covered by rudimentary health insurance, his family also had a lawyer who was asked to help preserve what her auto insurance mustered to quiet his own health which was sucker punched with a heaping stack of bills.

"That's why we have it." His father assured.

"Thanks to the democrats it's mandatory isn't it?" He responded which most would assume a good sign of his cognicance

"Well yes, but if you were filing paperwork while your brain was bleeding you wouldn't be here and I would be having a slightly worse time than I already am." He retorted with a placid parental concern.

"Awe shucks pa, bass-ackward but touching, in a pg sort of way."

"Family has catches and several delapidated realities, at least you've dawned back to ours." He chided and he realized in lexically gibberish moments like these how and why he developed into the man he did, even if both his parents will scratch their heads over such a statement.


When time began shifting into a more normal sentiment, Birdie started to quiver. She accepted that he wouldn't last in the dispatch room. He went there everyday like a prisoner, and she knew that he cast himself there. She knew it wasn't to let her down.

"You need to follow your dreams, just playing along because they let you maintain your job however rudimentary this new one is, it's squeezing mine. I want you to be happy but I don't know how that is possible for both of us together."

"What if I just went back to school, people think I should recover longer anyway, you don't want a loafer, but perhaps we could pretend that we're just at the climax of scholarly life. I'll pretend I'm just a senior with that program I learned of." He did what he could to pander but he could tell she was slipping out of his grasp despite doing what he could to balance their strain of desire.

"I don't know, we can try that because I agree that we have something special despite the fleeting nature that you cast."

"I'm just not ready to lose you and I don't feel I've much of a choice." He was deflated and dejected in his statement. He couldn't deny her and he wasn't qualified to suit her either. Alas the flower was always cracked.

What she demanded was simple to solve but unfortunately also impossible. "We just have to find a new way to accept, despite change being such a hard thing to manifest."

"Difficult or impossible?" He contorted

"If there is something you truly want you should have no problem finding the drive to achieve it."

"Unless it's fundamentally something that isn't yours to begin with."

Turn-ups from Turnips
TBI'ed into Reality?

He was given a .04% chance to survive the crash. Again he flashed. Him and Birdie had just moved into a more primary location which was closer to her shop and central so he could simply dash from home taking his first delivery.

Then it was six weeks later and he's struggling with the reality that his brain seemed simply to resist. He had to relearn every basic motor skill, in a twisted full grown way it felt he'd been reborn.

"You wouldn't believe how twisted this feels, I almost look forward to all the deja new experiences I'll have with something like this and someone like you." Again she surprised him with the contemptable emotion.

"I don't know, you don't understand what I've been through." She began and he quickly saw the tear forming on the brim of her reality. In the placid pc light of the hospital and sunset he quelled. "I'm sorry." She splurted.

"What could you be sorry for," he panned and delved deeper into the lux of Birdie.

"Drexler took me in one of my darkest momments and as a result three more times." He thought he should be compelled to cry but instead was scorned ashen.

"I'd say thanks for telling me, are you following that with 'I'm leaving you'? Because that would break my heart. If you slept with him when it was common thought that I'd be a couch potato that's one thing. If last night was one of those three times, then yeah, you'll totally break my heart." He just played it that she might wash it off.

It took her a moment to respond and that gave him an internal doubt, but he accepted there would always be waivering mind games. She was willing to hold onto him, though was it just for a the next few months of his recovery or were they really part of the immortal love that often talks those who spend their life together into marriage.


When he came back it was after close to two months, and he had a dread uncertainty of this Drexler fellow who perhaps spent last night there. They were on paper a couple, but this shakey ground had raised reasonable uncertainties. There probably was a solid week of uncertainty, whether he'd ever recover at all.

She was forced to ask herself what it was like if he was dead. There was certainly no certainty in those first few weeks of recovery how far along he would go. There was only doubt and walking that trepid path caused her hard uncertainties.

To which he'd simply been following his brother and his heart just telling her that they should start existing with an open relationship, it's true on paper they were only officially roommates despite their last few years and the new place they picked out together.

They might as well just stay conviently that, they have their own bed but they often might spend the night in one or another's. This seriously created doubt, "I don't wan't to be known as a fluesy tramp. I'm not that girl." She resolved.

"I don't want you to be that girl, but I think it'd be good, if you have your doubts then keep your hand available. You wan't you can leave me for him, I just love having you beside me whenever I can." He was honest in his appeal, he'd learned from Lefty that such a balance is possible.


When she convinced him he'd better to get back on the horse or learn a new course for his action. He knew a new page had been turned. He thought he might go to school, but then he thought differently. It was obvious she wouldn't stay with him for the minimum of two years that an act like returning to school should entail.

People can't really learn much in less, it's all just a revelation of awareness in the first heaping dose. It's the second that makes him full and that constitute's a meal. Even if he's only hungry for one, he'll never be full.

He started with the first oddity the very behemouth that would entail so much. It changed his life completely. Though he knew he wasn't ready for it to envelope him which is probably why he never personally gave it a name, even if it earned several.

Thankfully the health insurance was only able to pilfer a fraction of the money that he received from the auto insurance company. They would've gladly shaken him down every cent if they could. Constantly they would be calling him inquiring for atleast his own auto insurance. "I'm sorry it was a moped scooter, it's really only a bike." Surival at the cost of his was rediculous.

Though he did think it was unethical some of the ways, like an ambulance style taxi that costs more than a hundred for a single fare. Just to assert the conductor could perform basic cpr before an actual ambulance might rescue a teetering patron. So he decided to invest a quarter of it on the behemouth.

It was a mid ninetees sheiked motor home. He'd seen the sale and thought it might help give Birdie the space she needed if she really wanted a better suited chance at a relationship. She first took that completely backwardly but he could understand that confusion given its rather incredibly dapper condition.


"You think I should move in there? Are you adding crazy to your list of things you already are?" She flabergasted by the very sight of it.

"No silly, I'll move in there and can be gone any night you don't want to see me." He retorted, to him it was just a grandeos auto with a house appended to it. To her it was rather a monstrosity instead.

"Well I chide, and you are nuts, but living in this? How long do you feel it might last really?" He didn't have any means to answer her as he hadn't any clue what life might feel existing within it. "I give you a week tops, and I'm not even spending a night watching this house slip into trailer-trash. I don't know where your going with it, but parked in front of our garage isn't happening, it's not even a dream." To this she threw him her arm insisting there was no rebuttal available.

"We'll see where it prominates too." He quipped as a last gasp but she wasn't interested in attempting to unravel his logical spiral.

"Atleast you left yourself with a place to get kicked out into." She harped with a smile that he couldn't help but share with her, despite it being rooted in his own personal demise.

"We're drawing a new line in the sandtrap of our beach," he stimied but she was already closing the door denominating the debut of their seperations.


Birdie didn't just wash away, part of what kept Drexler was her attitude, it would shift like an ebbing tide. The day after shooing him out of her picture she might act like it was him being coy playing hard to get.

Eventually he gave up trying to reason with her. Though giving her space gave her the chance to pull him back towards her and he felt as much a yo-yo as a kite. "You know you'll always hold my heart not sure if you want to hug, squeeze, or break it."

"Well that changes everyday and you regularly cater it into existence." She parried gratiously, to which he felt an intrinsic twitch towards.

"It's true I play along, but I rather we have the good day drama, even if one seems often to require the other to exist." He lamented almost as if this were a fleeting cause but he too held firmly to her palm. Despite occasionally lashing out.

What became was originally just know as the Boddity, that first night he parked it along a reputable questionable block were several paid witness to it's new incursion in the world. "What you think of something that don't make sense?" He asked a nearby tree and started to question if he was going to become that crazy lunatic.

The tree said nothing and he cracked a tallboy before settling into this new perception, which fealt bleak from one perspective and glimmering on the threshold of new terrain. "Don't just become some whackadoodle lunatic on the streets, we already have enough of those." Was one of Birdie's latest quips of reality.

"If I do I'll atleast try to do it with some style enroute back east to share it with Ty." He lamented as the cracks in this new ravine of life started eroding.

The first time they said goodbye it was done with no remourse, they both fealt in two nights he'd have abandoned the oddity and squirmished back, where life was 'normal'.


After the first two weaks he got used to the size restrictions of the camper lifestyle but quickly learned how quickly it might desolve so was steadfast and consistent always maintaining the behemoth. It was golden, and he knew that if he was vigilant he might maintain such a manifest destiny within reason perhaps even learn to convince Birdie to enjoy.

Her first experience was astonished by it's presentation for the inherent doubt of his casual lifestyle. Though it was glittering when it came into his possession and he did whatever he might not to tarnesh that quality. "I'm impressed, and this is the bathroom we're you cleanup?"

"I'm surprised too, it seams to work. Kinda hard for me to fit, I practically have to use it sectionally. Other than that I just have to move once a weak to avoid being towed, but this city's ripe with streets like this and I've the whole country I might venture upon. I was talking to this fella about establishing this wild new beverage, we're going to see where it takes us and of course their's nuttySteph she'd be interested in sharing her granola through me slash us."

Here he goes on another scheme there was no foundation, he half thought half of what he did was to provide himself with some but it was just sand on the beach tossing in the waves. There was never any control only intentions and destiniations. They typically amounted to very little.

So he waded deaper into the mirth, of what happened. So much is constantly out of people's control even when they are it's primary character, the mirth wisped. It started becoming obvious but obviously he was clearly out of control and needed to be wained into focus. How that might might be reliant on a much more nobal relics.


She was an incentive and a perk but she fuelled his collapsing reality, he'd not realized that in the dawn, it took him just under half of his life to come upon that conclusion and it still shadows out of primary sight.

The incentive to win over her favor of something she'd clearly disapproved was a herculean endeavor, he'd have been tempted to simply sell it and move on but he felt it was an olympus task and he didn't feal the world had much concern for anything greater.

But in presenting it's sale, he tapped on the shoulder of a new market and with the advantageons of a few new pawns he let loose. It started under the golden adage that one man's trash was another's treasure. He started in the malaise of the Boddity but just simply continued to grow, and he did put a sales ticket on the rig, but it was just 50k or best offer.

Few were interested in it itself, but none who happed to pass in front of it could do little but spend the time embibing this glorious behemouth. It was a nineties new wave sleek, with a basic foyer and awninged patio. Which he established make-shift shelving along the side wall and a folding table engrandeured with recycled timber. That and a chair to pass his meandering time was all he felt necessary.

Birdie felt the inherent justification to play along but was just a bit jaded by the very fundamental nature of it. He did though impress her with the immaculate nature of the space, but couldn't help if their was no actual differences from her house, but that it was on the road and not aside it.


Though she went with him on it's maiden voyage back east where it trundled slowly down side roads until they found themselves in BeenTown. It had taken well over a month and after her formal introductions with his family. Was happy to take the first flight she could back to the midwest Milky.

"So what do you think of this debaclish situation dear?" His mother asked her to which she chided.

"It's better than I would imagine though this whole human imperfections thing I'm not sure how that will pan out. He hasn't offered anything that was gross yet, but it's still all just kinda junk. It's like he's a pedling hoarder."

"You think the game is junk? If we just moved slower I think it could evolve, people like it, when they run into it." He reasoned.

"Yes, but that still gives a rather recluse vibe don't you think?" His mother parried.

"Yeah," agreed Birdie.

"It's not nearly as bad as you'd think, you really just sleep on the same bed as any, it's just a very small room. And septic shit's really simple, stop at a campsite every few days have a lux night or two, it's not much different then taking a shower only it's once or twice a weak not everyday."

"I couldn't imagine it, dear I'm happy to take you to the airport." She assurd her very communally, in many ways they got along better than he did.

She flew back in four hours on a simple flight. He started ambling often a new town everyday sometimes he'd post for a few days at a site. He didn't pay close attention to the calender and wasn't surprised when he learned it'd been six months since they parted.

Next generations are similar
The paragraph? P/Boddity Arrives

What he thought was simple and easy suddenly became complex. The oddity was his own envisionment but it suited his normally atypical behavior. Which he never thought grand upon, even if it was daily in his meager perceptioon of reality.

What he did was embark on another journey, Birdie refrained which he accepted. "I won't be surprised if you Drexle yourself back in this remission though you are always welcome to join me on this wayward expansion of existence." He respited and though he felt raveled in such he accepted it, despite any and all of his appeals.

He started out south and when he reached the border he decided to head east towards where his grandmother lived in the penninsula. She didn't accept his new lifestyle and there was even a checkpoint, fortunatly for him it was at the other edge of the block, that wouldn't admit his ramstackle. Instead he just rambled back up north to his wayward sun.

When he got there it was pleasent to relish in his child-like enviroment. The human imperfections had evolved. He'd met a few errent dreamers who thought he might stabalize because the very curiosity of it's existence was bring it to life, he knew the only journey would be back to the Milky, where he imagined Birdie would've passed him off for the latest trend or worst yet that Drexler fellow. He wasn't equipped to deal with it but accepted it was out of his hands.


What happened next should be a long winded tail because what brought him back west was a galivent sordid trail of his exposition, and due to the fictitious nature of the tale is hard to coagualate. If he could really start up this bizarre erroneous pawn brokerage based on bartering it might have fit. Though he was often so passive which he attributed to the TBI but he was loosing certainty as to which might be truly to blame.

So it took him awhile and he noticied when he wasn't trying to please her he wasn't that arduous on maintaining it's presentation. He didn't mind letting the tanks fill or the dust to gather in the oblong corners. Life simply was but still, he gave it one last effort even when he was already fealing certain that all hope was lost.

"Take a six month hiatus from the glamrock, follow the world with me and perhaps pickup an errent gig, your skill is totally marketable in the mainstream of the human imperfection wheel-house."

"You are stretching, the odds that people will stray at this imperfection facade or whatever that is you call that monolific-strocity, and would want their hair styled by some errent stranger, I don't want to be that stranger. And I'm not sure I'd even want to cut their hair."

Convincing her to try and adend a more transient lifestyle was futile. She wouldn't even allow herself the potential opportunity of seeing if it might work. It was in part the steadfast nature that appealled to him, but it was the surprise of the steadfast that awed him. Apparently why he never ceased at presenting the opportunities.

Then Shadynasty hit the scene. It was a simple blend of Tough & Tiny chai with home brewed espresso then the addendum of whatever basics were accumulated that day. Granted their was an entire sidetale which unraveled on his first national curcuit of the country promoting his human imperfections. Which surely must be elaborated for this tale itself to unwind gracefully and therefore.


When he did however returned from his second trip, Birdie would take a few minutes with him. He fealt he was probably riper for Angel, but this was how the story unfolded. She was his longtime friend from back in the apple and he would be lying, saying they weren't without their tasty awkward personal momments. Both back in the realer twilight of youth, long before the manwhole was even a mere twinkle in his perception of reality; or this new imperfect one he was reveling.

Though now it was primarily a mix of about sixteen people who he called the yokels. They were those who'd instantly been allured to the human imperfections. They'd become his silent driving force. He'd frequent an area until yokels presented themselves he'd share some time with them, then trundel on before their attraction lost it's glimmer.

When it started he'd not the will to just keep rambling on but it created awkward tensions, flings that might linger into reality. Then it would climax with the heartbreak of his moseying on, though it didn't seem there was ever any shortage of new streams or streets he might meander upon.

So basically it was an ideal world, then Shadynasty came into play and the world started to morph again. It was founded through him, but it became vogue in the cafe that his brother was starting up, he could include his brother-in-law's cafe too, but she needed to snort her mustard before he'd take upon a fleebrained mentality to rep with his own. Which naturally he accepted, it would be foolishly assinine to betray reality.


Though it caught on envogue through a few minor tweeks that Donny of all people, an outside recruit of the yokel crew. Just a simple good fella, doing what life insists and homebrewing a custom stromboli that he sold through a few independent grocery stores in the pLand area. He fit right in to their wraggle, though it was still in the element of discovery, they weren't a wraggle yet, they were still just yokels.

But Shadynasty caught on and spurled like a firework, it caught mainstream attention when it became the beloved brew of a few mainstream hosts, one oprahnauts of another perspective. Though catching mainstream and the name so lexically playful, you probably inherently saw it differntly though Sha-dynasty was a character of the 60's in Philly. Which he reenvisioned on a playfull sign of speculation. People almost never had an original, though the paragraph? speculation of her whimsy had turned that into a popular place.

Which he couldn't deny that perhaps it's very existence might have hinged on his primordial speculation. He offered the brave Boddity as it's premier location at a food cart lot in the 28th district of pLand. There they sold their warez and the oddities of the behemeath adopted the propper titledge of the paragraph? P/Boddity.

There Shadynasty reached many and touched the what-if card of the internets multibajillion users and if they could speculate only a cajillionth perspectives quality what-if's into profits it totally made sense and he was happy it was in the pLand. It wasn't where he was raised but where he was raised was BeenTown and he'd been there that was what truanced him into the potential pLandier.


Birdie was already intrigued by the pLand hearthrob but it was all the way on the edge and a totally different world than her's and despite her crooked bouts of romance. Fealt certainly grounded by the fact that even if she didn't have her man now, atleast she'd a clientelle list that kept her time full.

"Well you should come out here, several people have their referals and that dingus paragraph? fellow, you know the tall Bingo one who totally has a thing for you, always doting with that tweaky name for you. You know he'd be into that." Her friend from highschool who'd relocated their herself eight years ago, jabbered in her ear one afternoon.

It's true he would, he even already accepted a local month to month type space and had been renovating the bedroom of the paragraph? P/Boddity into to a fuller space for the bizarre trinkets he'd hap upon and other's who found him might share.

The human imperfections was a tough nut to crack and even he didn't realize what it'd become until long after it appeared to set it's roots in pLand. It started as simply the sales of human designed oddities which he'd constructed or simply found reasonable products that probably wouldn't sell but if it was necessary, like the wheel of a bicycle.

Though even just handing the brass tacks of the concept wasn't enough for people to realize it, that's why this became it's reality really. It started with a weird toy mystery, a few human imperfect games, and whatever else would happen to the possesion of the paragraph? P/Boddity.

This grew and he'd been proactive with the internet jargon and as this thing became a real reality, people started to catch on and the what-if's were enough to drive the one gallionth who'd perhaps buy the products that he and everybody who played along with his conceptual idea.

This grew and once the paragraph? P/Boddities was established it lured Birdie to perch on his shoulder for a few times naturally one of those times was when Dendronica happened upon this faire planet of ours though that will be potentially a few chapters of it's own. And he doesn't feal he's enlightened you enough of the paragraph? P/Boddity, it was a godsend for several so their should be an omage of it better enstilled in you.


It started with Neighborhood, A game of OTHERS. That put him in the apple where he lived with Froggito, it was a true twilight of his youth. Just as the crashing reality of his overseas attempt was accepted. His heart was broken but he thought he saw a future in her, she liked him but wasn't going to wait out the question mark of his being a grown responsible man to raise her child.

He was the type that typically stayed out until the bars shooed him away. He wasn't rampant but a laid back charmer, who perfered every day to be easy. This day started confused as the Froggito stumbled home at nine in the morning. Totally looped from sauce and a night of debauchery, "Bohbs, bohbzy you got to come learn this."

"What wha, what time is it?" He just garbled as reality started to unfold from sleep.

"Come on man, wake up, you gots to learn this. I even got us some of the good las to sparkle, come on man, you got's to get moving"

It was irreverent and driven and coddled him from bed to reality. Where he lured him with a pipe to ease the transition which is primarily what coaxed him in the morning from slumber. "What's this revelation your garbling on?" He finally clairvoyented.

"What you talkin bouts?"

"This game this whatever you dragged me out of bed to a cloud for."

"Oh right, that game we was playing earlier, it was mad fun. Shiz I don't really remember what it was called Neigh Neigh Neighbs something"

"Neighbors?" He asked starting to jade slightly through the confusion.

"It's like that but it's something more, I remember it's called Neighborhood. Cuz it's all about how other people play off the dice first your being a good neighbor with a cup of sugar." He reveled in what was a small moment of pride.

"Aight, so how we play this game of cards and dice and money?" He parried settling into reality that Smoothy'd be there any minute when his usual wake-up call of Dot his dog would come in to be housed while he went down to their nearby methadone clinic he was hooked to.


Smoothy was hooked to a lot of things Methadone and Xanax being the primaries. He'd agreed to share his life story with him and would often walk with him up the hill after his government sponsored addiction fill. Their he'd relate stories of his youth on his walk up the hill to work and he'd serve him a daily Smoothy.

Starting from his mother's 80's modeling career with bit parts in the Cosby show puesdo celeb life. Unfortunately he never wrote that piece that car really robbed his brain's awareness of the memories. He'll have some which he labeled deja-new.

It saved him much of the heartache of youth, though he can still relate when it shimmers in his minds eye of reality. Smoothy helped them create Neighborhod, A game of OTHERS. It wasn't Neighbors or Neighborhood, that Froggito had talked of.

After dealing out the entire deck he'd lost comprehension of the actual game. Naturally it evolved into it's own and when he lived in the manwhole it evolved further into it's own dice based deck not just a regular with no aces or kings.

One original perk of the human imperfections bizaar was an oppertunity to learn a game that had never been played before. How many people do you know that play Neighborhood, A game of OTHERS.

Once Shadynasty got added to the roaster with nuttySteph, it fit great with the paragraph? but when it was just it's original HumanImperfect Boddities self. It gave character and charm. Though it took a very unique type that would drink a beverage served from such an irregular setting. Come over play a game you've never heard of with a mysterious caffinated beverage.

He got where it inherited it's doubts, but just keeping the bar low made all the difference. When he could help a stranger with an actual object, for he'd several. He was satisfied but when he could share a game or his stories, he was reveled people were rare to share their time with you, but once they did occasionally they were gratiously surprised to show actual interest.


This was a game he learned to play on that first real solo expedition. When he drove back from BeenTown the first time he was still just accustoming to the very nature of it. Learning all the basics that he'd hoped would be inherent or instinctual.

He was forced to learn the hard way that things must constantly be maintained to maintain their inherent nature. This just scratched reason until he finally found the means to lure. Which wasn't instinctual at all but a byproduct of it's very existence.

Birdie was charmed that he seemed to be assembling something, but she was uncertain if it would last or just have it's charming hour and then simply start withering. It was a doubt such as that which chided him, and resonated the reason that he should've held tighter to Maree.

"I'd spend an hour but it's nothing compared to an entire lifetime, and to the best of my acknowledgement we only have one." She pined after he'd prodded her the reassurance that their were handfuls of potential clientelle. It became the nuance of the move itself. It was always pleasent to visit places and return home to the Milky.

"I can only pitch you a golden tent, and I know I cant prove it, but I followed your initiative that I learn to start something and I have, and I get it can move there with you. Though you have to commit, and I hope I haven't talked myself into becoming a stranger.

"You do seem you might and maybe I'll take an extended leave," she was tilting before Dendronica climaxed her initiative.

Dendronical Arrival

What happened was an errent twist of fate that wrapt humanity in a heaping arch of existence. It started as what only astronomer's perceived as an epic eavening of gazing. An asteroid compirable to what had extinct the dinosaurs was perceived to be on course to be crash landing into Jupiter.

People might watch the spectacle through a telescope, the nature channel was harped upon documenting it's historic encounter. What it documented was seriously unexpected. He was just at the adjacent watering hole where the television aired it for most to complain about.

What happened has a much more conveluted name like a dextrodimorphial parabolic hybronize maybe, what amounted was one of it's several moons had a drawl on it, while another competed and the whole thing flipped it outside of Jupiter primarily.

It appeared like nothing special but one of those hundreds of potentials came into truth. "We're being told that this astroid, this Dendronica which it was labeled twelve years ago when it was discovered by Hubble. Is headed in our direction, we are on orbit of the sun it will inherently be drawn for"

"Is that reporter saying what I think he is?" He asked in pure astonishment of what was being mandated.


"An asteroid approximately half the size of the moon is destined for us, the same that extinct the dinosaurs." Lefty pontificated which shed the momment. Birdie just quelled in the horror of reality. He just shrugged his shoulders, he was appeased that mother nature was really demonstrating, though naturally he was glum. What with it being perceived as the doosday apocalypse perdicting itself to arrive in three and a half days.

Being told that life is going to end is nothing like one would imagine. It's not as if you were suddenly sick or woke up six weeks later. There was a full hellish and helpless mix of pandemonium. There was no abstraction.

Some people naturally went bannanas and other's were already and just kept plugging away at life, in absolute denial of the notion that humanity might end in the next couple days. The rest were imbetween, humanity did quickly establish national bonds with every nation to attempt warding Dendronica off our orbit, but each had their doubts.

It was established early on the sooner the better so a series of rockets with explosive's were set at what were perceived trajectories and fired. Each nation fired their own. With their own, humanity inherently knew not to leave all it's eggs in one basket so each had and several were gifted with their own.

We set them off in groups of five to maximize if our calculations were correct. This occured every hour or so until their were none left in supply. It was long since they were even manifested because military had downgraded heavily in the new mellenia. Some even misfired and a few were unintentional casualities but that was a whole different story.

People did what they could building and firing rockets for the three intense days before it's encounterment with our piece of the puzzle.


Birdie quivered that hummanity was lost and she hadn't her parents to say goodbye to.

"If you need to see them, go to the airport and hop on the next flight. I don't think it's actually going to be the end of the world. But if it is I totally get your urge. I'd be drawn to BeenTown but I've already crossed the precipice."

"So callous, this is not about having almost left them before. It's knowing that in a few days you might never see them again."

"And fortunately the cellphone still hasn't a problem giving me the sound of their voice, in these dark daunting moments of when we see how sharp shooters we are with ICBM's in outerspace."

"So callous," she whelped.

"Or reasoning," he ammended.

"Do you think we should just go out to a field and have a dance? Sing Moom-biah?" She tattered. "I'd wish for more, but if I just have you for the end of the world."

"Ouch I always knew my Birdie's got wings and claws but alas they tarnesh easily."

"So much more than that," she sneered and suddenly like the blink of an eye he felt the switch and they eveloped. "Do it for the end of the world?" Was whimpered which they both instinctually absolved.


When it came looming in spect of arrival it was noted that it had been hit several times. People were never sure of which nations attempts were successful. Several liked to claim the timing of their own was the one that struck but it all amounted to what seemed to be the same thing. The camera was constantly filming it from Hubble and one might see darts passing it or occasionally smashing into it.

Though everytime it connected their would be the brief anticipation. Though still it would be lumbering in one piece but would be riddled with dust. Though each time it was hit it was nudged a little further off course with the planet. This turned to potentially a blessing and a curse, for now though it was apparent that it would likely primarilly avert contact with the main hulk of it and humanity was likely saved but now it was inherent to start raining storms of the sediments we'd made with the rockets

Also nudging it out of line of direct contact though still with the gravitational pull of the planet it was lured in an exceptional new path.

Their were three large pieces that came into contact though none was large enough to cause anything chaotic, the sediment clouded most of the northwest. As one of them struck were the goonies came into existence.

Silly it was one of his earliest childhood memories seeing that on the niner with his mother, it coddled him when he thought of it. Though none spoke much where it was, perdicts had gandered pLand primary, so on it's banks were none shocking.


When Dendronica finally contacted us. There was speculation galore on that last night with this new additional moon looming that we might be perched on the end of humanities ladder.

Though it was founding a deep seated belief that even if life would be different tomorrow, unless you were just unlucky or potentailly cursed. Some would have that errent clump that didn't desintagrate as it enetered our atmosphere and be what believers called gods stones sniping them out of existence.

The P/Boddity windshield was one of the accursed which is why he never pandered to the relics game of it being part of gods plan. "That big G feller if'n they even is, I'd imagine lost control over us years if not several mellinea before if ever."

He wouldn't play with the pretensions of believers. Life seemed out of control and when pastors were as often the victems of fate as the sinners, he only assumed that proved the random nature of existrence and the benevolent inperdictability of luck.

He was already filled with hash tags and question marks. So Dendronica even when it was foreboding didn't alert him much. The pandemonium was always the rest of the worlds and if he was fated to die he accepted that with open arms.


Dendronica was first discovered by an astronomist coincidentally at the time of the recital. When he was only a toddler on the brim of reality. It was perceived as an abnormally large asteroid, presumed heading into contact with Jupitier probably in thirty years. Nobody thought deaply about it.

It was originally logged into the NASA's awareness as simply lx27421.e17, it's discoverer had his own field day of calibrating it's path and trajectory and assumed it would contact presumably one of the out stretching planets which ever might happen to be orbiting at that time.

Eventually it appeared that perhaps four planets including our own might be on such trajectories, though considering it's apparent size, could as easily be simply drawn into one of their own orbits. As a potential new moon was waining on his reality, he simply thought better of claiming it and garnishing it with a name should that happen to be it's outcome.

Suddenly now thirty years later that man was potentially in his own twilight learning he coined what could be the end of humanity.


When it did first come into contact it was like a rain, that which unfortunately might kill you if you're struck by a single drop. Though it was always some errent place. But for well over the first week it might errently rain a beheamoth drip.

So many times it had been struck in humanities last ditch effort of repreival from it. Though due to the physics of it, most of what had been parried by each rocket that struck it had never fully abbandoned it's own orbit until it was lured into ours.

We might have moraculously nudged the central body of it off direct course. Actually what it took him more than two weeks to realize, because of the pandemonium all basic ammenities went defunct.

Just because fairly little had destroyed. People were shaken fundamentally. Even if everything could still work. People were hunkered. It was in it's own right the fist thing truly biblical he witnessed.

What he did aswell is of interest because this was an epic reality. In basics he fled in the P/Boddity, several caravaned with him. Birdie didn't want to be one of them? Didn't she fly back to the Milky in those three refraining days before contact? Naturally, he wished that she might be there beside him.

Did he didn't even really know who she was anymore? He just had that primordial drive the same he'd chaliced when he was overseas with Maree. It was a connection the type he realized he'd had before and would cherish again.

He could let her go but he didn't want to and now that the pLand coast had been stormed with Dendronica he might as well return to the Milky. Just because his adolescent self thought he should head south, he didn't need to venture into new territories.

That plan was six months old and predated this Dendroincal interuption in his existence. The paragraph? was happy to expand and he'd enjoyed the P/Boddity role. So naturally in response to the realistic reality of survival he voyaged back there.


On his way one of the Dendronical's found the windshield of the P/Boddity and it caused a blundersome reality which he could just be thankful for existing. He laughed when he noticed he was in the ravine just past the Shasta.

"You realize how close that came to taking one of us out?" Lefty was flabergasted in the passenger seat. He was right it had gratiously? happened to've sliced the P/Boddity right in the center given each the unexpected hearthrob question of what the fudge just happened.

The other's were cool though it was a clear reminder that one of these wouldn't care about what was in it's path. And unfortunately for him the engine of his beheamoth was it's latest victem and him and six other's were stuck on the edge of the desert.

They started the new reality and Karadise was so pleased to be in the dessert she blatantly stated how she was going to adobt it as her new little space. "Just be carfel dem marauders don't flank ya." He suggested questionably.

"Arr" was all she responded with.


"Didn't realize we'd found ourselves in Karadise City." He playfully retorted as his newest potential just happened to luster in the swire of reality.

She was a pLand attribute like him and many simply lured by it's enigmatic charms. She'd grown well south of the Milky but it was relevant like the manwhole was to pLand proper. She'd been drawn to his awareness through Lefty who'd added her to his roster at design school.

Lefty himself was an ideal of humanity he was drawn to emulate. Though as they culminated there were clearly forks in their path though those could be whittled to minutia.

Even when he surprised him with a sound contrary pespective. He always had to acknowledge it's validity despite not ever even being a twinkle in his mind. That was why he trusted him while consistently disagreeing with each other.

"Well nothing so quintessential might come between us ever again." He chuckled when he acknowledged the dread reality as it unfolded.


Life transpired it took them a month to find the means to reach the Milky but when he found Birdie she was glum, simply downtrodden. "Life came and went, twice now I've been granted the gift, and both times I refuted, now I'll just grow old alone?"

He wasn't interested in her taciturnium reality. "Wish a Dendronical might ease the burden of existence?" He asked her quirt of the reality unfolding.

"No it's better at least having an existence even if it's not as I'd envisioned it as a child."

"We couldn't imagine anything else." He was tempted to relate but stimied his words before quipping. He just stood there holding her hand, then sat down beside her. She felt in intrinsic twitch to withdraw but she too stopped herself.

They stood there and had just each other's gaze to delve within. It was always mesmerizing, though what it was could be shread to was all just the intrinsics. "What should I do?" He asked her drawling the moment as it lingered for them.

"There isn't really anything, people all still want to be styled, even if they haven't a desire to get it." It took a about six months to fallout of the raining mists of Dendronica. When it did people were scared constant on edge of what next would become of them.

When nothing actually did the tensions eased but people were warry despite revelled in existence.


After two years Birdie surprised him again, they were living together and she'd resigned. Not from stylism but this abnormal resolve that she'd unuexpectedly shared with Lefty, probably why they always got along even if he always respected that she was his.

"Will you have a child with me." She randomly blurted one evening while they were just casuslly eating dinner.

"Schvincter says what?" He responded to which she simply huffed.

"I've thought about it and I feal we're of an age and a circumstance to leave our immortal mark on the planet together." They'd made that reality a few nights prior and it was nice to hear it echoed in her communal agreement, she did assume he'd agree.

"Wow, okay, you're gonna do what we, oh manachello." He was thunderstruck, a few weeks ago he'd referenced and she was adament now here she was. "I mean, you can take full advantage of me, I've laid my heart upon your shoulder ages ago. In some ways even before I knew you, but whatevskis. Your welcome to go for it, but I won't be surprised when you abort it in two months."

"Well I see ye, of little faith. We'll see and I know if and when we do you'll make an excellent father for our child.


He didn't think he would find himself to be a parent. Him and Maree impressed being pregnent but shammied their incidental for their childish ways. He remembers her congestion the day she went to the bathroom and gave birth to their abortion. It scarred her and he was back in his shire shrouded. He didn't even realize the hardship she was attaining and it was a dagger their relationship couldn't avoid.

He just remembers the night he thought they scored that goal it was in the basement of one of his childhood abodes. The lush part of Swellsley, which to those who know know it dignified itself as a premier due to it's well endowed female college, the harvard for girls when education was still segragated.

If he'd found a reason to be in their country, he would have though just the dream of their amore wasn't enough. After a year it too began walloping. If it had been thirty years prior his life would have altered dramatically. Due to the very evolution of reproductive science. They were of an age to be responsible. He didn't consider himself prepared now he wasn't sure if he'd inadverrtantly dropped his only chance and yet here they were.

He was impressed that she'd express her willing desire. Though instantly perceived she'd just parry as she'd been known to. He slothed, what had actually become of his life. His life had changed much and little.

He didicated the remains of the P/Boddity to the rambunctions Karadise City she'd claimed intent to forge. He knew thanks to it's location it'd be a burner resort on route to the big yearly event which naturally the human imperfect was known to commonly arrive ready to barter into the good.

When he was a child it was all about the LSD but as he grew he let it adapt, now it was about the very behemouth that he'd lumber into camp. And the practical reality, it helped promote it's very existence and he shared the opportunity of the online marketplace.

His problem wasn't simply the production...the format was adequate he just needed to create the popularity of it. Just because it worked didn't make anybody feal an obligation to use it. Though he imbibed through each day simply the reality of it's existence and that was what abled it forward.

There was the brief time in Karadise city, there was a reprival of the Milky. He accepted the petering nature. He held onto to Birdie as the instinctual desire. Though the paragraph? was in pLand and naturally it recovered, even pulled a flukish recoveory mission by Shadynasty.

Had he produced a counter paragraph? in Milky or just rode the wave of the P/Boddities which had managed to catch on as an offshoot of Shadynasties glimmer.


Naturally he did whatever seemed the most logical in any given moment so after the narrow aversion of Dendronica he clung to Birdie.

She respected his dedication and a few years later she promoted he try bringing their relationship to a whole new level of perception. It waxed reality, but how big was he capable of becoming, he'd never the impression of a weight gain.

He'd always been his tall slender self. He expected a gut was like his recital wound would just come into existence or lack there of through the adage of aging. Though in remission of such a reality, he realized their was still so much you should learn.

But what was on his agenda was just existence. He'd been settled in Milky, but he opened two more papagraphs?, one their and one more in BeenTown. Shadynasty had gotten a few more nods, first in that pLandia show were it was a mainstay in the definition of pLand. Then broader in the national scope through that Chalkoaling that class gem who happened to grow up in his town and happened to attend the same independent 3rd party school.

When she inherited Man on the Street, and added the Wo-. It was acceptable he was a graduating senior, he spiritually passed her the torch. When she pulled it off in the Office, she took that same inheretence but on an international level. When that lead into her project, he was proud of her for cracking the mainstream shell.

When she too fell in love with Shadynasty and brought her with her on the mainstream he wound up with a nod that helped the paragraph? to exist in a more national respect.


Life simply was and Birdie's wings had settled in what he felt was complacency at first, which caused him to scratch his head. Was he never intended to fully accept the solitary romance, there were simply too many people to just leave yourself for one.

Was it his own fault, when he'd had Maree and subsequently Birdie, though he'd always lust the several that he'd perceived delicious. He'd not a taste of a list that naturally grew as time continually metamorphasized with new complections. Their was never an end to his curiousities. Which in the eye of romance that's primarily what kills the metaphorical cat.

He welcomed that Birdie accepted him but this new fangled idea of having a child. Planned ordained happing, he couldn't help but revel. He was proud of such an undertaking. He hadn't changed his pace or route. He'd just managed to find a balance, which didn't make sense how it worked. Though the next day always fealt well grounded despite.

Birdie got pregnent in almost no time. "Game on" she told herself not a month after she'd ordained the idea. She stymied herself questioning how long she might keep it to herself. She'd even considering holding out until he caught on. Though she'd dismissed that idea as it fluttered into her potential.

He'd look to deaply into such a play on reality, even probably enjoy it but how long could she maintain the quiet, didn't give herself a week. Decided in the end to just leave the pregnancy test on the bathroom sink. Questionable whether she'd done that unpurpose or just her brain farting before trashing it.


"I got the news," was all he'd said getting into bed, before she keened on what he was talking about.

"What about that silly regurgitation of the P/Boddity thingamajig." She asked.

"No silly, not my news, yours."

"Oh, you saw that?" She shnarked.

"Yeah and the results were the same, unless that second line just happens to form over time."

"Well they say that can happen but it'll have a destinctly different hue. But it was there since I tinkled on it."

"So we're starting a family?"

"It looks that could be the world we living you ready, I bet I know what you say."

"If you were expecting, game on!" He blurt enjoying the unexpected double entendre he happened to unexpectedly stumble on. Though that was on the precipice after Dendronica wagged its tail but the eve before Dendronitis gripped reality harshly.


Dendronitis Debuts
As the bawl of twine unravels

When Oliviae came into perception his world felt shaken but in an extremely benefitial way. Though to understand Dendronitis we have to look back to what dawned when that golf club made a stern reminder of reality.

It was still the apex of the deva lifestyle. It seemed all one needed to do was tap into mainstream consciousness and then you haven't a care more than the PapaRazzi to confound. This was still true perhaps but everything had intensified to the point that one needed to find their nitch.

The development of the internet and the possibility that even something like this very tale itself can become popular or even exist is enough space that just about anything might be possible and you have to be nitchy not simply in the philosophical Neitche type of fashion.

Though self agrading aside from everything. It was germaphobia...which if one can broaden their spectrum might date as old as circumcision which is probably what founded every kosher movement, including perhaps it's very inception.

Birdie delved upon Oliviae, 'that will be their name' she shone and refining reality learned naturally they should be expecting paternal twins, they might have a girl and a guy to inherit each variation of the title.


It dawned under the daunting belief of germaphobia. Wheather it started raining from circumcision it doesn't matter. It refined when a golf club caused a massive flash which he dauntingly remembered to the detail of the tweeds not just himself but the two other's playing with him. In a time before the PC reality had caught on and inadvertently shot itself squarely in the foot.

People were always concerned with germs. Considering how many people might tap upon an illness and not be prepared. When Dendronitis seized the nation it was the patronage to 'clean healthy living' that turned to be the primary victims of the pandemic.

If people could have been more casual the pandemic would never have seized humanity. Though responsibility is often what drives the ship, that and happiness, self preseration and all that but sanity was inherited as sanitation which withered reality.

People wouldn't dream it and fortunate he'd clung to the regurgitation of the P/Boddity though this time it was more fundamental. He didn't need lux he just needed practicality, that and he'd always rue driving the behemouth.

It fealt inherent and though he rarely clipped more than errant branches it was simply an abhorant catch of it's reality. He'd often try luring conduires and he'd been granted, though that can be equally shaddy more in the gaze of insurance. Insurance which would gladly drop him, he'd already maxed significantlu more than they'd desired.

So that civilian mandate, justified it's very existence.


What happened is biological people can attribute it to the changing ecology the ashen state left by Dendronica. Because what happened was an enourmous amount of ashen debris resulted as a sideeffect of people's strategy of averting a true judgement day.

The mass of the asteroid was kept out of direct contact but was strong enough to be pulled into a new orbit around our own planet. It became like a second moon to society, a reminder.

For the first two months, it was so ashen as it all gravitated towards us just as much as it stayed with it's own. So it wasn't even visible, just presumed.

Reflected off satelight cameras it was jarringly real.

Some Dendronite dooms-dayers might claim they're connected, though it was truly simply the obbsession with koshering society. People grew terribly obsessed with hand sanitizer that it was available most anywhere and were common in interaction.

Though at such a time he was being riddled again by golf, this from a 2nd shot drive errent right at clocking him square. It gave his nose a crook but the two black eyes for the next two weeks were what really schnookered him.

Atleast he'd Birdie to sympathize, she mandated regularly that it was not from slobbing the wrong Milker. "He was hit playick that whackamahole game with those Frisbee like..." She began before he aided.

"Discs" Was all he'd utter before she'd rattle on.

"Yeah that discusy game he plays. I don't know."

"Better to go out with the strong finally, if we're about to have a full family won't be time or a reason to play those games for the first few years." He insisted twiddling his thumbd.

If only the old simple existence of finding a course playing a round, then finding a place to lay at night. It was better but it was the twillight then.


People had grown so germaphobic, they perceived themselves simply being more healthy, less germs less chance of being sick. Unfortunately, it really just caused their cells the immunity deficiences. When they hadn't germs to fight, those mitochondria lazed and future generations of cells which happens every six to eight years in any given speceeal form, we're no longer insistent in their production.

Well given ten years to grow into mindset and mainstream. Then becoming considered normal, in another ten. He can't say he was shocked when their seamed to strain a bacteria/biology that most simply waiver it towards a cause of evolution.

Though reality that evolved was chaotic in the first few weeks after they'd their Oliviae revolation. It seemed like destiny planned a hard twerk, and then the sickness trumped. It was like a viral flu that simply the body could never apparently overcome.

It started with the sense of nausea, then it became a sentiment of lethargic immobility, then it became actual immobility with the common. Then it climaxed. It all happened so fast as doctors who would've tried to conjure an immunization, were falling victim to it.

They called it Dendronitis in honor of that dark moon that most think easily might fall back upon us, though our own moon. Tribute to the past born from when the dinosaurs lost and left us the terrain that we much more adeptly suited.


It ensued society, it took his entire world from him.

It turned out that his dedication to the P/Boddity lifestyle, had been an ideal breeding ground for parasites and germs to fester especially as he teettered at times. He'd played that part to appease when he thought Birdie might be his wings and guide on that epic journey. She'd had her brief interludes but lashed back to what she insisted as 'normality.'

For years this suit her fine, but just as it was supposed to blossom from all the chaos. Dendronitis robs her and them of having a life together? He however had never catered to the germaphobes.

Lefty would even insist he was a germaphile, Birdie'd agree. As a result though the plague primarily passed over other's who'd lived like him. Though considering those who lived like him were primarily homeless, society altered dramatically.

Just because he'd survived a transient lifestyle. He'd developed the immunities to combat the plague, though he was less then one in a million. Hadn't he'd thouse paternal twins just before it happened. Though it seemed likely that they not survived, even if he'd provided their first cells the DNA to combat to the onset of the flu, wasn't that what happened.

What should've happened was they'd evolved the P/Boddity together. They shared a mutual contempt for normal society. They'd endured the pregnancy, but their lifestyle hadn't changed much, if anything they'd only better geared themselves.

Birdie had a latency issue, she'd been hesitent. Though if she hadn't then they might be the metaphoric adam and eve, giving birth to paternal twins. That givies a twisted inbred loop to that whole biblical nursery tale.


What happened is clearly uncertain, probably it was a good ten or fifteen years in the future. Therefore it could only exist in fiction, which seems duh then to have them don the next generation of humanity.

That is classically a lucid dream, dreams which are always worth having are seldom a reality. It is significantly more presumptuous that she would have been another proverbial lamb to the slaughter.

What happened was the homeless inheriting the world, but what really happened? They watched as society withered. No survivor was running the system that had squared headlong into a brick wall.

Those who'd inherited it had often heated themselves simply. They didn't have houses with thermostats, they didn't have the connections to the teathers that most had perceived as inherent. Though just because it was a savage reality, he thought quick to stock up on products.

Society quickly turned to the Twinkies are good forever mentality. He didn't ever realize how glitz society had been when it functioned. Though two weaks after regular production ceased things didn't hold.

Milk was happy to start fermenting as it curdled.


It only took another week for reality to shift again and he can attribute it to the gold toe, the seal of quality, slightly imperfect.

It was what had spurned forth of reality though it had never been in focus. He like any photographer, took many pictures, with many different lens attributes, blurred foreground, blurred background. He was just constantly dipping the test strip, a few more seconds of exposure.

What culminated, could be shared in a sentence, but it would be the kind of sentence you'd just peresume was of a ranting lunatic. He thought it should be distilled into paragraphs, pages, and chapters to justy this nut before it cracks.

If Dendronitis had been so curteous, the intellect society would have conjured an immunity that might be mass produced. Dendronica had given humanity three days and they'd managed to find a way to nudge it off of a terminal course with ourself.

Some nations caught on as it started in central metropoli but it happened pockmarked across the entire globe. And since the world was actually tight knit in six degrees, it was impossible to stop it's manifestation of society.

As they thought to lockdown, it had already spread. When they might discover an immunity, there wasn't anybody left to produce it. When he found himself the errent survivor, society started seaming bleak.


What happens nextis a question?

Depending on your perception he and Birdie were the lone survivors raising Oliviae. Though there is a likelyhood that she didn't survive. There is also the third party that thinks she left him two infants.

But he considers they'd probably endure a harsher reality. He knows he'd rather die than them but he'd never be certain of how underqualified he'd be at such an undertaking. It'd probabaly be the harshest reality possible.

It was then he'd be forced to come to terms with the reality, the reality shimmering like his gold toe, the sign of approval, slightly imperfect. "But if I can't have what I want can't I atleast pretend to?"

"Not gonna happen, but did it ever?" Was the response, but from where it came is an abstraction. It clearly wasn't him responding to himself. He wasn't that crazy but like the ruffian he just happened to be there.

Who he was wasn't who he'd intended him to be. It doused reality from far left corner into the outfield of abstraction, which he was happy to obfuscate and wished there was some way to but it couldn't be manifested.

He was just another survivor, and because almost nobody capable had followed suit he was quickly teamed. He quickly ascended that crazy ladder of accention which seamed always more an inheritence. One he was never capable of manifesting or controling.


Life had uncertainty but he'd like perceiving they'd had a mutual risistance because of the P/Boddity lifestyle. Though she hadn't performed it with him, she hadn't she should have moved on like everybody else, he grimed that perhaps he hadn't the fiction. Though it was Oliviae who saved her.

She'd become intensely sick in that first month but her body had been inherently producing the antigens in Oliviae that would come naturally from him. She preordained the Drendronitis syndrome and was well within recovery, when it swept society visciously under the carpet.

In fact her sickness had ailled doctors and had inspired an immunity vacine which was one of the medics had clearly seen and was capable of producing. It didn't go mainstream but their were a few who got to have the hailmary save of a lifetime.

Not that the world they inherited was naturally very desireable.

Three days after their paternal twin biblical nature birth came upon the world. That was what happened. Birdie and Oliva and Olive took rapture of the world they shared together. That was majestic and riddled what should've happened but what really did?


It wasn't intentionally then but the dream he'd been having emulated. He could talk about when Birdie and the kids seamed to simply leave. Had he become a volitile maniac, or had they never actually survived.

When reality started jading he realized life wasn't what he'd expected it to be, no that's not it. Maybe it was the dream he started finding himself constantly relapsing upon, no why would he have started believing, that is what you've yet to discover, and yet here you are.

Was it the Gold Toe? The seal of approval, slightly irregular?

That dawned when he was probably fifteen years old, one of those difformities which many might revert to hygiene as it's probability. His family were dedicated skiers. He'd become a galavant Freestyler, though it was before the olympics had accepted it as a sport.

He was most prolific at Ballet pronounced Bal-gay. The premier tried changing it's name to Acroski when it's sport was being integrated in the Olympics. It's unclear if it was a figure-skating reason because it was very much the same skills though on miniature skis with abnormally large poles.

It went the way of the dodo which is alright but it did result in much of his time in skiboots, he assumed that is where the fungus originated. He laughed about it until he'd crossed well through most of his life.

Then he found himself living in the McGurknity. Their first patron landlord, who was so behind he'd constantly pay off what was next getting nixed on the list. He was also so schmuggy that one day he couldn't find his car, and spieled his usual 'man, I only had three payments left...' tirade. Which none wrapt deaply about.

Sure enough he founded it still parked at the neighborhood market later the next day, such a lush he'd walked back and totally forgotten it was there. That made everybody else laugh. They'd just paid rent month to month and he'd paid that month, he wasn't to be snided worse then the power just simply shutting off or the TV to stop playing basic cable. Which had all in their own manifested at times.

He was smart enough to just go somewhere else, down to one of the trashy bars that they lived close to. Though then one day he saw his bare feat. He wasn't shy and it didn't take him long to realize that all ten of his toes were gold. His feat looked mutated and deformed.

It was the McGurknitude that got him to not think twice about offering what the podiatrist wanted for taking a laser and going to town on that foot. Though a year later it had regurgitated, but since it was only the one toe he accepted it. 'You mutate one more an ill try nixing you again and I won't fail.'

Birdie assumed he was just trying to impress her. He just casually took care of it, and though he'd imagine she'd noticed but simply approved and didn't feel a need to make him feel more sheepish. She'd let it just linger in acknowledgement.


Then that car put the brakes on his life, which was a primordial trigger. It didn't set him off but it did cause the recovery of his Gold Toe to tarnish. The podiatrist though was very reassuring, she was glad to compliment a rezapping. "I noticed, but you know I don't know why you would have done something like that."

"Fools can be foolhearty," he chirped in response.

"Well atleast this one's not dead. That sounds worse than it is." She played that afternoon and didn't show much concern when again that Gold Toe insisted on shining on his foot.

"You remember the threat."

"That's amazing," he'd been told several times, "that usually spreads rampant."

"I'm far from typical even if I'm a human like you."

"Were" Angel insisted, but he wasn't interested in her perception yet. Though it was strange ever since that second night. She was no longer attracted to him. He couldn't understand and was happy, Birdie was atleast seventy three times more attractive.


It was always unclear. It should root itself like the game that it was supposed to always be. He could attempt letting it spin, but where would it lead. The legends had passed their torch and moved on. Though what happened, he needed to put his parents truly on the spotlight.

Though hearing their recollections would only reinforce that he was a crazy loonie. They wouldn't be able to provide more than a well grounded umbrella from the hail. If it was dendronical they wouldn't reveal much.

It always goes back to the GoldToe, the seal of approval, slighty imperfect. When he'd that accident it didn't recover. Was it always telling him something. Something that not only didn't he want to accept it, but simply couldn't. Though reality flashed regularly.

He got close to what he wanted but typically would witness it being ripped out of his hands, that apple just out of reach. Probably the same that Adam and Eve were lured to sample. It brought human's perception of reality into existence.

We can see how it evolved like the apes learning to trap ants with a twig, or dogs as they learn to react to certain phrases with a certain actions. The premier of existence and what all that means. What seperates us from the trees which were the first to come to terms of awareness.

Then the realization that you are a part of that chemical structure that produces any and all of those objects. The mountain, desert and everything inbetween. Even these words which are just a methodical representation of 1's and 0's, which is simply a switch awaring it's on or it's off.

How one could be a zero is clear but just the very existence of you reading this can see that their's atleast two, the me and you. Though that could as easily reference the same binary pair.

The twist that it's all logical and absurd even he found daunting, though it's impossible to deny one's reality. It's foolish and he scoffs at himself. 'Your the regressent losser, but I'm the one who unfortunately happens to be you, so there.' His brain swelled, well atleast it was swell he schtymied.


It was a conundrum for it to make sense he'd have to be crazy and considring it's an faux-autobiography if it did make sense then he's crazy. Though he is me. If he's speaking for himself in the third person. Sounds pretty koo-koo Catch-22 times two.

But for anything to exist it has to be written. And just because several might be able to assemble those letters to pass on such a sentiment, it was only ever him that fundamentally would. He'd asked several to partake. He realized they would but only at best be tipping their hat.

Reality is relient on one, and considering you've a body he'd assume your just as real as him too. Though acording to the primary author this is fiction.

That so far is all that's written hope you scratch your head pleasent.



So what this piece was trying to say is the dawning of a new perception of reality, the reality that actually he hadn't survived, not just the fateful scooter accident, but perhaps the fateful golfing accident, or at the most primal the infamous dance recital.

He probably did survive and it casts a grey shade on our future. Maybe it will heighten awareness though he highly doubts that. Maybe it's wrong there won't be an errent fluke asteroid or a massive pandemic on the fault of immune deficienies. Though if it's actually true, this is all just a sketchy potential.

People in what might be ascribed as the first world lived on when he/she died. His parents survived and his sister brought Ty into reality. They harp on what might have been but most just perceived it as an infant tragedy.

His mother might have allured trying again. Leo wouldn't say no, he was steadfast. It was his time to be a man, and parenthood defines that. Maybe the follow is in terms him, so really what that's postulating is that people don't perceive they died.

They do in the first world perspective, if you know somebody who lost a fight with cancer or just hardcore unlucky on a vehicle. They're gone, but they can't perceive life as a corpse, there is nothing to perceive.

Until they can accept it, will they move on and to where? It's all like the Chassid's dictate, ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Once one might accept they've died will their cells stop looking for existence.


He get's the impression that would be true. Though there is no way of perceiving that their might not be countless recursions of society, for each person the extent of their life. If you know somebody who died, they probably don't realize that. This is one sense true but what of those who chose to part?

Do they simply find themselves in a recursive pattern which whittles as it naturally will. He realized this reasonability and learned to accept it. That doesn't doubt he isn't just massively a lucky person, that's why he cradles constantly reminding himself of his falterability.

So there is a reality of choice which he doesn't allude, he choses one or the other the same bionic similty. What you might believe is all that you wish. He imagined you'll sink eventually, but how long will it take you to join him in that hole. A flagrant mystery the type we all might mischeviously allure. What is is only up to each of us to define.


He wanted to express how it fealt dilapidated and unsquare, how was he to prove to anybody that he was actually a girl that died when he was only three years old. That doesn't make any sense and he'd be surprised if the current story gave the reader much of that impression, he must lucidify his frames, broaden reality.

That should be the revelation that he died from some sketchball confrontation in the Shasta syndrome. He 86'd in reality both the Scoot scoot, golf club, disc and especially dance. Why not aswell the Dendronica and Dendronitis too. He should realize before all that they all had been abstractions because his entire life had been an abstraction.

Just mandating it as it's presented just gives him a nice shone of that hogwashy insane-dude variable.


So in truth what this is saying is that he perceived he lived his whole life, but actually he'd been a child victim of a DUI that occured when s/he was just three years old. Why it was so resonate in his mother's heartclaim to the number three, why everything happens in threes.

The gold toe was an adolescent reminder of his actual decayed corpse which was buried in an apropriate ceremony, perhaps next to His poppy, or his father's whom she'd not the luxury of meeting in existence.

Though s/he perceived an entire existence, day for day and it lived in the belly of the conscentual consciousness. As s/he actually just went through decomposition of their actual matter. This meant that everybody whom laid themselves to rest probably did again and again, those who'd passed away from Cancer, probably impressed they went through a remarkable recovery. It's only when we're of an age were we can't perceive of existing to let ourselves go, and probably relize existence again as a different object in our universe.

They might perceive themselves as a tree or a mountain which might take eons to accept or an animal that hasn't the lifespan to experience it as much more than a toddler. Like a squirel or a dog, and they might seep upon that loop for ages.

Though the universe is collectively one thing, even if it's shared by as many as infinty can count up to. Ah the miraculous reality.

Now the realistic fear is that if he's right and this isn't all metaphorical poetic lyrical hogwash, then s/he's been dead already for thirty years. The corpse that was Bella we might call her has withered and decomposed away. So will I suddenly realize myself a tree that's grown from the roots of that cemetary she was laid to rest.

That ellucids the greatest conundrum yet, will I simply dissappear, incredibly doubtful. Though their can be the gratification if you've lost one, they probably haven't lost you. Because even if I'm actually roots to a tree I still perceive this Bobonaught to be my only route path of existence, and even if he's a loathsome failure. I will still be him until I'm atleast eighty-four. Domp-pumbt


The sun danced across I­90’s pavement, in the end of summer air. The air for Ed in his 91 Honda Accord though was not nearly as buoyant. It was congested instead with the fog of cigarettes and the haze of things to come. His mind was a cesspool of thoughts, churning away in the late summer breeze, as he cruised down the highway. He was on his way to school.

Behind him, driving a crimson Ford Explorer were his parents. Ed had left before them to create enough space for him to smoke in freedom and not wonder of their wandering eyes. But when the few drops of THC from the primer at the end of his first cigarette kicked in, the velocity at which he traveled plummeted and Ed could see now the familiar vanity plate and crimson glow of his parents in the rear view mirror catching up to him.

He depressed the gas pedal even harder and sped off in front of them.

He was attended any college, USA. He was a freshman, and the long winding road of I­90 was enough of an obvious metaphor to cause him to smoke even more cigarettes.

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He was ready to go to school; all of his other friends had left for their freshman orientation at least a week prior. But his friends were all attending rich private schools; he was going into an overcrowded university, that didn’t have things like weeklong orientations.

His orientation was one long weekend in a hot hell. Not a glowing precursor, in fact Ed was loathing the thought of college. He was more contented to stay at his well paying job and live life. But at eighteen, and especially from Edwards upper­middle class upbringing, some decisions are simply forgone conclusions. And Ed was on the road for a new life.

As he came into the asshole of America, as he would later say with fondness, Ed inhaled the last drag off his tenth cigarette. Half a pack in a two­hour drive, that’s some nice work their boys. His lungs hurt from the excess of smoke, and his throat told him a story about how he was not going to smoke for the rest of the day, and his brain got a good laugh out of that.

He tossed the cigarette out the window and look about at the campus that sprawled before him. UASKD was a dirty place, with mysterious smoke stacks coming out of the ground, pluming white fog into the atmosphere. Ed sighed and drove up to the dorm that he had weaseled himself into only two months prior.


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Loafer had said, you want to live in central. Central is the only place for sinners like us to have a good time. It was about time to see how much Loafer had really known about Ed and the University. The rest was up for grabs.

Moving day at any university is one giant free for all; cars were everywhere. Once green grass covered in a blanket of steel. Ed parked in a loading zone spot because he wasn’t sure how the system worked, his father though apparently was on to something more because he parked the crimson explorer smack dab in the front of the building.

The family met.

“Nice drive?” Said his father. He was blatantly cheerful; he always was, just his way of dealing with the world.

“I guess.” Ed said blatantly standoffish as he always was to his father, just his way of dealing with his father’s way of dealing with the world.

“That’s nice, so are you ready to move into you new home?”

“I guess.”

“That’s nice, Should we unpack?”

“I guess.”


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Suddenly his mother spoke in a shrill voice. “It’s not his new home, he always has his old home, at home, with us, you always have your old home, at home, with us.”

“Thanks mom.” Ed and his father exchanged a glance; she was on the verge of collapse.

“Well, shall we get this underway.”

“I guess.”

They entered the building. Ed was met with the same false smiles that greeted him at orientation. They were all being paid to be their as part of what it meant to be a community leader.

“Hi.” A snide voice, met by a frail freckled faced individual. Weenie is an adjective Ed might have used in describing him. “I’m Jamie, first floor R.A. and you would be?”

Ed deliberately paused as a means of summing up this guy, and giving him an awkward moment in the process. He looked back at his father who was standing beside him, doing what father’s feel they should do out of obligation to the child. “Well.” Said his father, “Aren’t you going to tell him?”

“No, I thought I would at least make him suffer a little first. Everything comes at a price, including a name.”

Jamie was beginning to fidget and Ed knew that he had gotten what he wanted. “Ed Knowles”


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“Edward Knowles,” began Jamie, “why that name sounds familiar.” He leafed through the room assignment sheets to the letter K. “I wonder why that sounds so familiar,” an obvious set-up, until his finger slid down the page to Ed’s name. “Ah, well, duh, Jamie, it’s because he’s a part of your flock, room 121, what a funny coincidence.

What a jackass.

Sarcastically, “Ha-Ha.”

Jamie had him fill out two forms, and than handed him a room inventory, “Fill this out and give it back to me. We are having a floor meeting at five tonight, so you can give it to me then.”

Flat, “Great.”

“Until tonight than.”

Flat, “Super-Duper.”

They walked in silence at first down the long sterile hallway. Their were large signs made out of poster board saying ‘welcome freshman’ and cheesy quotes like, ‘today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Ed was not amused by them. In fact the only thing Ed had a grasp on being real was the soreness in his throat. I really shouldn’t have smoked all those cigarettes.


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After a moment his father broke the silence. “Well, he seemed very nice.”

Ed shot his father a sarcastic look, “Are you kidding me, he was a tool.”

“Ed’s right dear, that man was a bit strange.”

“Alright, what do I know?”

“Apparently not much about today’s standard of coolness.”

A moment later they were standing in front of room 121, Ed’s new home.

That's a taste of Arrival, the start of the first attempt at novel lithography
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Or investigate deeper in this website for a pdf, I'm sure I've found it a nook in the past.

The Forgotten Orchard


I’d found myself there upon the hill staring at the moon. It was the eve of Shavas. The anniversary of our forbidden inception, and the only offspring of mine I know to have taken to the Earth.

Her name was Ezra, the child of never. She was a ray of pure light.

She’d lived to witness only two lunarCycles on this Earth. The ill-timed nature of her birth had given life to her at the onset of the cold season. She’d lived for only two months before a chill had made a fever which robbed her gently I hope of her fragile newborn life. I like to think she lived in a time outside of pain. Though the truth is I’ll never know.

Often when I look upon the Shavas moon, I see her face staring back at me. Today’s sorrows however, are something far greater than the daughter I never saw take to life in this universe. I suppose perhaps, a ray of light will always shine too bright.

For now it will sit in infamy, at the pit of my stomach.


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We were nothing new for the Valley. I’m sure We had come before.

I’m sure the mistakes of our youth would take to fault again in the future. Perhaps this coming cold season, for all I knew, but my distraction at present was something far greater than the problems of this childlike Valley.


I’d not known what to expect, but then how could any prepare themselves for such an occasion.

I saw it there before me. It’s the unthinkable.

Taking in a

long deep

breath, and




I tried not to think, but my head started spinning. I held onto the wall for support, but still I collapsed. My hands were below me, and gravity was holding them to the floor. The morning light was crisp. That strangely tangible quality, that exists only at dawn. A chill passed through my body, and
I shook my head


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I shook my head.

Despite the warm season,

it felt cold.

I looked away, but I couldn’t look away. I looked back and all I could allow myself to see were Her eyes. Those soft orbs, now so hollow. A great abscess had grown within them.

End of First couple beats...
If you enjoyed please purchase the old school publication style

The New Testament*

January 3rd 2021 The State of the Union Address, President Bernard Jolais presiding:

Good evening my fellow Americans. Today I made an executive order shutting down the cell net across the United States. I'm sure you all have many questions. In time I will answer them all, but tonight is more important than the minor perception of comfort that your cell phone provides you. Tonight, I have a story for the American people. So please get comfortable in your chairs my beloved citizens, because this one's the biggest fish in the barrel.

It begins fifteen years ago, at the tender age of 27.

My heart had grown tired of being unsuccessful. I'd lived the idealistic pothead dream, and the dream had let me down. I'd grown tired of my life. The pointless situations presented all seemed like dead-ends or enrollment. I was no longer copasetic with either. The American public, both civil servant and neighbor had let me down.

I'd read enough to know that this country wasn't worth its face value. In a near fatal effort to make something with my life I moved south and took a job in Hobe Sound, Florida. With a God's hand of persistence and luck, I met with Destiny across the waters of Jupiter Island's outer coast. There I laid my cards upon a rickety table and asked for my slice of the American pie.


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America, this is my story: from a disillusioned artsy-fartsy pothead working in a coffee shop, to the President of the United States of America. “Wait for the appropriate time,” Poppy would tell me. I believe in my heart that now is that time.

“Only time will provide my true answer,” he says in a soft voice. I look at him through the corner of my eye. He is staring directly into me. He has a lifetime of arraigning these lies. “What will you do for me?” I ask, playing a hand I haven't got.

He smiles crisp and endearing. I can tell this is checkmate in his past. I'm showing him my throat. I show him that all my knights and bishops have perished. I show him one rook and he sees I'm waiting to jump. He doesn't have to worry. He knows he's already enlisted my slain army. “What is it your heart really desires?” He asks delicately, as if we were old lovers.

“I want it all,” I say with a hollow intonation. He can hear the words echo off the peeling shore. He sees exactly how I am feeling. There are no games to play. I'd used them all getting to this point. It brought me here: standing before the devil, while our lines pull out across the Florida coast; the ocean pulling our lures away, while he lures me in. I've come, revealing myself like a moth to the flame.


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“You know I could as easily kill you,” he calmly says, as if he is talking about the weather. I can see him on his Throne regarding my life as employment. He casually pulls a revolver from his backside and aims it at my temple. “I could just pull this trigger you know, and all you got is death.” He smiles like he's telling a good joke.

I turn my head. I can feel the space between my future and his narrowing by the second. It’s all been for this moment. I look at him, with a cold peace in my stare. “You realize, Mr. President...” I begin, “I would never have played this hand so boldly.” I let my words linger, while looking deeply into his eyes. My eyes see well past the surface he presents to the world. It sees past the truth of his true desires. I see beneath the past of his pedigree. I look through him for a tiny point. In the miracle of a moment, I find it. It's smaller than a grain of sand. It's the part of him that's still afraid to take a bullet. I seize that single grain of his conscious. “You see it?” I ask rather boldly, my feet now confident beneath my head. I notice his hand begins to tremble. “You see Mr. President, I wouldn't have played my hand so boldly, if I didn't know in my pure heart that I was already dead.”

I pierce him with my words. I've threaded a needle in the last eye of his fear. I have touched something within him. It is a place he'd long since forgotten. His hand wobbles a bit more. He tightens his grip. He doesn't want to show me his fear. He slowly lowers his weapon and regains his composure in the blink of an eye. “I should kill you for a statement like that,” he says, though he doesn't retrain his gun on me. He's seen into my temple. He reflects the response of my eyes, and I can tell that he is suddenly afraid to look into them.

That's a start of the closest? Sorta a real book

Clich Reality

His life was something else, he gave up trying to understand years before that car intervened in his existence. He could never swallow the truth, and since they'd spoken several times about it, he had to perceive it's potential reality. What happened that day was an errent fluke, though he questioned often what had he done in the moment. That question haunted his sense of being, that question always sat in his stomach.

It's quite possible that he looked into the the tendril eyes of death and accepted it. He'd told her the night before that he wasn't looking for trouble, but if death knocked on his door he'd be happy for it. She was leaving him for a man, the same situation of love he'd had, he accepted it. He'd welcome the next life with open arms. If she was leaving him then love had moved on, he thought of her, whom he'd left in the past.

She was leaving him for him, who had stoically held out his foreign hands for her, which she duefully accepted. This gentleman already spoke the language when he followed love over seas, when he'd done that they were all foreign and he got twisted up by the language. Even if love had already spoken it's own, it didn't pay bills.


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It was something he'd accepted, time moved on. He never believed that he'd actually pursued his demise, when that car irregularly stuck itself between him and the green light, it was an intense storm and he was on a scooter. It was highly unexpected, but what did he do in the moment? Did he do what he could to avert the accident, or did he accept it. He could never tell. After such an incredibly traumatic experience, the choice of life is taken out of your hands.

Your preservation and recuperation is the will and drive of others, even if he had accepted death. Until you've crossed the line for atleast an hour, they'll do what they can to keep you going. He turned out to be some incredible survivor of the situation. Perhaps his brain was accepting and ready for the end but his body didn't go along for the ride. He came through with gold stars. When the brain is heavily damaged the repricussions can be extreme.

The fact that his neural damages were almost primarily in the part of the head that registers motor skills, he was capable of resuming life. Granted he was no longer the artist that he was because he had only the memories of his art, the skills that produced it were fundamentally something that he had to relearn. He had to figure out how to make his hand move like it did. He had the memory of his signature, but he signed his name differently.

The first month of reality consumed even ten days before the accident, all he remembered was that he'd just moved into a new house and that change was in the air, her man was already planned to be moving in though there would have been three crucial months. He wonders what conversations they'd had, because he did often find himself fantasizing that time of his life, before the incident took it's radical change of reality.


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What conversation's they'd had didn't matter, his life changed on that moment. Reality never concerned him much, but that might be in response to one of his clear deficiencies. He didn't harbor ill will, depression was something that he could only reference in context. He didn't feel bad about anything, even when there were clearly things to feal bad about. When she last was a part of his life, he'd accepted that time had moved on and he missed her even when she stood beside him.

Though the insurance company insisted that life moved faster then his recooperation insisted, they were happy to give him the first few months of care. Though after he'd survived the accident and the bones had healed. They were ready to stop carrying him, they didn't care that his front tooth, in presservation of the moment had accidentally turned around and healed backwards.

They stopped the bleeding inside his skull, and managed the resculpturing of his eye socket that had clearly taken in part the blunt of the accident. They were finished paying for his recovery, they'd 'saved' his life, he was back on his own for getting through it. If he wanted he could file for disability and several lawsuits. He wasn't concerned. After having a serious traumatic incident like that he simply felt releaved with the sentiment of being alive. It never really crossed his mind why he'd been in the accident to begin with.

Though returning to life was nothing like he'd expected it to be, he thought the memories of his past would travel with him. They did, though they were jumbled, he hadn't lost them, though he often couldn't keep track of them. When he returned the house still felt brand new, even if it was almost six months that last trip to Dom's wound up taking.


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Apparently he had been going out for a sandwhich when he got side-tracked. Given where the incident took place and the fact that he wasn't carrying his phone at the time, it makes sense. Though after life takes such a drastic turn, details don't really matter.

His first problem was that he'd been a delivery driver, one side effect of having a scooter for a primary vehicle, other than losing the access to drive for 3-5 months of the year. Was that he got to have fun racing around all day and make money. After losing his motor skills, he wasn't capable of driving so nimbly and his scooter hadn't survived the accident.

Though the company was gracious and offered a really mundane task of dispatch information transferal, he would occasionally tell drivers where to go and restaurants what to produce. Those few that wanted the benefit of delivery but not the expansion of adding an old-school fax machine to there assembly.

A slight catch-22 he caught, and though it wasn't a fun means of work it was a fundamental means of employment. He didn't have to like the job, but after fighting off his insurance company to keep as much of the money from the driver's insurance, he didn't have enough to live comfortably for more than a few years. The job, might not be anything special but it was a necessary beast to burden. It seemed he'd need the job for atleast the majority of his life.

Every day he got hungry and it didn't appear that he'd ever go a day without the necessity. Eventually time simply moved on, though he never felt like he was on the right foot. He could have redistributed his learning curve. He could have gone from righty to lefty, he could have done so much, but normality is something one is drawn towards even if he didn't feel he had the vocabulary for it.

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