Get Ready!
Two gentlemen named John and Chris sit on a park bench, the year is 2040. The Philadelphia state capital building rises behind them. John adjusts the hemp rope which serves as a belt, girdling up urine soaked khaki shorts which poorly disguise his trash bag underwear escaping out the right pant-leg. Chris wears nothing but a series of bedsheets and duvet covers, twined together in the semblance of a cross stitch, wrapt about his kindling frame- stains of various colours pock the fabrics. Chris's mole rat penis hangs unaware beneath his crossed legs.
It is three thirty in the afternoon and not far across the street, small children walk home from school. The children are well fed and clean kept by loving parents, they have no wants. Their parents watch a healthy amount of quality television programs that they discuss with their co-workers. From time to time the children's fathers take the office stairs rather than the elevator to get some exercise. The parents' sex lives are average, but from time to time they try to mix things up.
It is 4 o'clock in the morning, John and Chris have not left their bench- it would not seem they've moved much either. The police never give them much hassle and the locals aren't worried for their children on the account of these men. Rather, the locals gossip amongst themselves about who these gentlemen must have been. Some say they're former diplomats, others swear them to be displaced war veterans, the grocer's life partner claim's they were once rich foreigners who fled unjust persecution abroad.
Around seven o'clock, young aids begin trickling past to get an early start at work. One young man, with very strong political ideals, is reading the Wall Street Journal on his Kindle while walking to the state house (he likes to consider all angles on the issues). He unwittingly bumps into one of the gentlemen's leg and he is startled from his newspaper. He politely apologizes and continues his way to the state house steps. John doesn't say a word, his face shriveled in hate. Chris idly masturbates.
My love for this post cannot be encapsulated in words. I can only comment saying, when this future unfolds, will we have the audacity to call ourselves "gentlemen" ? Something tells me that our ability to see ourselves so highly is unlikely, but something also tells me that once one perceives them-self as a Senator they are always a Senator. However, as a Senator, the eventual decline of our rat mole penises (as you most eloquently put it with the most perfect literal/metaphorical image) is undeniable. I hope these characters never die, and i guess with the help of the intarwebs and google servers, they never will. Now I am off to shotgun beers in the bathroom with the water running so as not to wake neighboring kin. Cheers!
ReplyDeletehttp://www.hulu.com/watch/62445/saturday-night-live-suppressex
ReplyDeletei just hope that they have something better then a kin come the year 2040. also, now the photograph of the noble naked mole rat shall forever be forged as one with the photograph of Senator penis that forever sits in the nexus of my membrane.
ReplyDelete