my bologna has a first name



any panty waist sidles up to my portion of the carpeted reconditioned strip mall floor with boneheaded requests for an



hour here and an hour there is going to risk having a reptile chihuahua with shining yellow slit eyes chew snarl wrangle its



way out my forehead and into play. I'll refract like Legion just before this occurs, so I'll be the printer, the edge of a desk,



a coffee mug, a filing cabinet, every rectangular tile of the drop ceiling become sentient, eyes everywhere, watching the



scene go down. My diminutive hell hound reptile chihuahua buddy will start barking incredibly articulate and cunning



commands in the voice of donald w. cheney, and the panty waists, the striped shirts, the sports fans, will be all, Hey, this



little guy's pretty good. Gee, but he's a neat little guy.



and then I'll also be swaddled in a bed sheet, dirty, crying, all the color gone from my skin and hair, walking among all the



poorest people of the planet trying to explain to them how total world domination is sort of a nifty little thing and then I'll



also be the saddest little cheeseburger you ever saw and some fat ass bitch beast androgyne in ill fitting brightly colored



clothing squished into an orange plastic booth at the Wal Mart fast food area, whatever the fuck it's called, opening his/her



fat shiny mouth getting ready to devour me in all of three bites, masticating, yelling around me at its screaming child



and then that feeling the big men in Washington must have when they're gulling a bunch of good-hearted trusting american



fools out there shaking their hands and kissing their babies at privately owned Ma & Pa breakfast spots, that feeling those



terrible men must have when the local newspaper cub clicks a shutter of them smiling snakelike among a crowd of



translucent smiling childlike oldsters hunched over small cups of coffee and egg plates in their U.S. Navy caps and knit



shawls, that self-congratulatory feeling of mutant benevolence those diabolical men must have will also be a telemetry of



particle physics in a radioactive half-jar of biological kim chee half a world away and also the current swarming



intentionally manufactured morass of chaos in the lands between Christ and the Pharaohs