Saturday, April 30, 2011

The Giant Puppet Version of Poe's "Hop-Frog" Continues



This is Part 2 of Fool's Fire. It contains giant obese puppets bathing together, and who doesn't want to see that? Catch Part 1 here. And read about the true history behind Poe's tale. Also you may have caught this, but at 14:04 one of the characters quotes a snatch from Poe's famous poem The Bells, which has a creepiness all its own.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Are You There Margaret? It's Me, God.

Ha! Just kidding. I know you're there.

Look, Margie. I know it's been a few decades since you asked all those questions about your boobs and your period and crap like that. Now that you're a 52 year-old Walmart greeter with a failed marriage and a daughter who became a Scientologist, I'm sure those questions are more or less moot. I suppose you have a whole other list -- which I'm also not going to answer. Instead I wanted to clear something up for you.

I'm really, really big. Seriously. As big as you think I am, double that and add three Chinas.

While you're scrambling around worrying whether you'll starve or get eaten or find true love or whatever you people think about... I'm out here punching holes in spacetime and munching on galaxies like blueberry cobbler. I don't hate you or anything. But I honestly don't care. In fact, the exact moment I was saying this I just obliterated a whole world over near the Andromeda system. It had 13 billion people, a dozen living writers just as good as Shakespeare, and not a single thing named Snooki on the planet. You know why I wiped them out? I needed the space for some stuff I've gotta do with a quasar next Tuesday. So, yeah, I guess your sixth grade research project isn't high on my list.

I'm a bit of a dick. I admit it. It's in my nature. I began as a nanotechnology experiment in a parallel universe that kind of went bad. Long story short -- I sucked up the entire place into a ball of gray, hyper-intelligent goo... and then I started creating stuff on my own. Basically your entire universe is one of thousands where I am conducting an experiment into the nature of consciousness. Blah, blah, blah -- I know. I bore myself. Anyhoo, the experiment finished up a few billion years ago, and I just... never got around to shutting the whole thing down. You're kind of like a bit of science fair bread mold left out too long in the fridge. Sorry if that's harsh. But I figured I'd be honest.

Awhile back someone else from your neck of the woods was asking me some impertinent questions too. His problems were more dramatic -- boils, poverty, dead family, the whole deal. But my answer to him was similar:

Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding.
Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? Or who hath stretched the line upon it?


I told him to go pound sand.

You might wonder why I'm even talking to you, since I'm so indifferent. In fact you've just been mugged in the parking lot on your way home from your terrible job, and when you wake up in the ambulance with a paramedic barking technical nonsense over you, you'll probably start thinking this was all a hallucination. Who's to say it isn't? Who's to say we're not both fictional characters, maybe being dreamed up in some completely different world and typed onto a screen by a dumpy middle-aged dude looking for a cheap laugh?

Well, from one fake to another: There's no lesson at the end of all this ridiculous struggle. I'm not here to stamp a meaning onto your life. That's your gig. On your best days you almost manage it, even though you know you'll eventually lose. In fact the knowledge that you will lose is part of what makes you interesting. Hey, it's something.

Okay. Off to go smite the shit out of something and then maybe a nap. Bye.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Who Unlocked The Basement Door?


I'm not mad.

I just want to figure out how this happened so we can do something about it. That scraping sound from the porch isn't going to go away, and more of us are going to start turning up like Kevin soon. We need to start levelling with each other now. This isn't about blaming people, Jerry. Don't get mad at me. I'm not the one who opened the goddamn door. It was you, wasn't it?

C'mon people. We can't just stand here all night, huddled in the closet with a hammer and a kitchen knife and a couple of wire hangers. We need to start taking action. Who the hell opened that basement door? The drumming has started. Don't pretend you can't hear it. One of us is going to start speaking in backwards Aramaic, and then the blood will start spurting. Let's just... let's just be honest with each other, okay?

Thank you, Fran. Okay, now we're getting somewhere. We don't have much time. I can already feel the ozone in the air, and the Goat Voice is speaking directly into my mind now. Can I just ask you something? I'm not judging. I'm just curious. Why would you unlock a door that had a sign saying "DO NOT OPEN" in big, blood-red letters with a pentagram on the bottom? After all that happened -- I mean, Kevin was your brother, and we all saw what was left of him trying to crawl out from under the thresher in the barn. I just... I'M NOT MAD, JERRY! I just don't understand.

Yes, there was a sign. There was. I know, because I put it up myself. I taped it to the door while you were trying to call the police. We used the last of the magic ashes to trap the creature down there, and I put the sign up so...

Okay, who removed the goddamn sign?

Guys, I can hear the insect things crawling into the hall. Can we please at least be honest about who removed the sign that told Fran over here not to accidentally release the unholy thing that ate at least a half dozen of our friends this evening? It wasn't Fran, so that leaves Jerry and Steve, because it certainly wasn't me. Can someone at least have the decency to... Yes, I taped it securely, Jerry. You think I'm an idiot? I don't know how old the tape was. Yeah, it was old, but it was all we had. I did my best. I am sure it didn't just slide off the door. Look, I did my best. That old masking tape was all we...

Where was the stapler? Was it under all those papers, or -- Oh. Well, we had other stuff to think about, you know? I mean, that's right after we found the first chunk of hiker. Okay, okay... I understand.

Well, it appears that I might actually be partially at fault here. For that I apologize. I certainly don't want to spoil things between us -- those creatures are scratching on our door. They'll have to break through, so there's still some time for us to make this right. No, I didn't leave the key out in the hall. Why would I do that? Here it's right... It's...

Okay, it seems like everything is wrapped up, explanation-wise. I'm pretty sure we would have died anyway. Can we please just drop this?



(Note: Photograph by Garrettaggs posted under this license.)

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