For those just catching up, here’s a rundown of our two previous installments. After clearing his name in a New Orleans county courtroom, V (Jon VanTorre – left) tore off his chains, took a breath of freedom and heaved thirteen nearby picnic tables into the river. Although the tables were county property, all understood their sacrifice was appropriate restitution for V’s ordeal. He did not use gloves. From there it was off to the pawn shop for a round of drum solos. V’s skills had not atrophied after months in lockdown and his rhythm was as steady as ever. Mr. C greeted V at the door with a preheated seat and a Masonic handshake. While wailing away, V was shown a series of laminated photos of elaborate cakes. Mr. C turned the last page of cake photos, V looked up...
Morning Constitutional
450,000 lbs. of scrambled eggs AND your choice of toast?
Sign me up, buddy, you’re getting a DELL!
Nightcap
One is never aware of their own mental collapse. Although appearing sharply to the outside, it creeps in, drips in really, under the door, into the mind of the afflicted over years. Decades even.
You don’t notice you’ve been wearing the same beige pants for 16 consecutive weeks. The TV dinners all have the same names, but the food keeps switching compartments. You’re certain your teeth each have names, but what are they?
One day you wake up and realize you’re very close to the center of the insanity, with the shovel in your hand and the dirt piled up to the sky and you find it odd that you haven’t even broken a sweat.
Avalanche Painting
Fish discussed.
What?