Psyche Tea Ice Endower
Cowboy
Ike paid his dues in cloud cover currency, flashing ink-stained wads of high
denomination bills wherever he went, oblivious to the tracking stares of
drooling lobotic eyes. “I’m just a screamin’ coyote on furlough from a human
transport junker, barely a stoned throw away from exile to population overrun
incarceration blowback locks!” he staggered freely, seemingly weeding out his
cares from any theoretical underpinnings of humming mental tinder brush.
If
one managed to inch a little closer, through his omnipresent retinue of freed
lobotic wenches, booby guards, gum-wielding time drug mules, and cataleptic
nail-biting neurosis informants, all packed sardine style in tidal sweep
formation bliss of semi-inflected saddle shoe pointillism…
Well,
nod too mangy a feeble critter or criterion seller or fellowship seeker ever
made it so smudge as within earshot of Ike, ladder load touched his fabled
cloak or cauterized his ninety tails of woe or feebly asked him to quench their
rabid vapid limpidly lugubrious curiosity of all things celebrated in this
glorious tundra of Dearth-bound fallen noxious cinder growth (whence known as
humanity).
But
supposing someone were to banish their only bod-bidden gob of humping
flashpoint fleshpot cramp-infested wherewithal (formerly known as the
parturition proxy of any purebred postulant to spiral waveform’s
pseudo-synchronous consciousness of death-defying eternity), well it would
practically peel the sun-dried pages clean off your pasty brainpan’s faulty
mammary bunks, faster than shafted iron sirens can ease into spansules of
androidal nautical anthems, asthmatic arterial scuttling paragons,
bioflavonoids in bifurcated bauxite raids on bison forgery clinics, bituminous
cobalt societies, bilious parachute protectors, stocking japers, castoff
emotionally corrected flan meringue dusters, custard pylon whipping shores on
sortie parole…
You
getta da pictorial ermine, Siam surly, wizened upward of all the starving boots
in onset copulation crust, flown from spirits on highways of defiant rodeo
towns to mainspring megalopolis contusion centers, pillaged by erroneous
centaur pining crates and taut toroidal glockenspiel collision courts, when or
what or whosoever devolved from spatial counterfeit Graylien stump act through
enhanced and engrammatic Hillyweed action figurine to mall warts on tirade from
booby-crapped basement buckaroos to plaid incarceration crux of truly tapped
integument to waxing moonshine publican to stubbly entendre intensionality’s
existing humpback notary of well-sprung mind chain torpor queen or sapience in
socket pleas or leisure’s supine hairy calling cardigan of missing tarps and
hooligan incipience or breakneck flatbread axe disease, popped weekly into sty
machine express valise believer sleeves.
Tarry
here for chesty augmentation sentry breath, recumbent seeker; pleasure island
bookings swell to bubbling scoreboard finish limes gone flaxen in the spurting
sunlit rafter swoon of Molotov ducktails, nodding totem squint police, and
smooth official domicile seclusion papacy, meant cursively for dungeon
consonants in paralegal muting fratricide on slumping unnamed sanitary knapsack
strips of beckoning to chalkboard noumena amid a paper chair collation’s
styrene recompense for tabled spin citation cattle.
Swords
came out at the slightest implication of evocatory insight, glancing below the
skinny harpy’s negligent sundry tears, prompting Ike’s paternal halter Eggo,
wan Psyche Tea Ice Endower, to baldly proclaim from high on statutory ceiling
shafter, chandelier, and oratorical mountaintop afforded sole surcease above
the current planet’s laudatory lapse:
“Declarations
of sinfully resplendent thunder are softening into unusually foul and lying jet
pilot rage! Perhaps teasers have turned to bully flown trail mix, sauntering
through bellhop psychoses of concierge implosion grease, spread cataclysmically
across the blob of hobbyhorse in staid credenza poker shaves, feeling uppity in
spooning belt Caucasian dodge of worn abutment smoke trajectories, filmed with gears
in tow and sobbing maiden uniforms sagging in all the spritely placemat
junctions, flossing clear-cut Forrestals with churning phantoms and scurrying
kitchen utensils.”
At
this admittedly lung-winded and shim-wad obtuse elopement from even an extraterrestrial
fantail to albeit nebulous concavity (if not round-eyed pomposity), a camphor
lozenge maniac erupted from Ike’s blossoming booby-trapped shorts, bursting a
very fine zipper, poking a shamefully wasteful fiery head of orange hair,
greener than grassy hills of clover eyes, bespectacled bucolic beauty to be
sure, the finest maiden of this oar antsy udder seagoing vesicle (whoda ever
gussied up sedge a pulchritudinous specimen and menage-a-troika’d to package
her in wad ken only be culled a verily tidal comportment, parried well beneath
the hitherto zipped and spackled underpants of swan Cowboy Ike Cargo, whom some
wood cheesily misspeak as homeless or add lust homogenized or maybe even
somatically asexual).
Sandy
hoot, this paragon of feminine perfection, so obliviously lobotic to shaven the
mossy causal subservient, popped forth and lunched into quite the soliloquy:
“Sigh dare, flyboys from savory winter planetary shipping stem! Mined distinct
pleasure…”