Inutility
4 
And the voice said, Well, then. What loometh exceeding immense, expansive beyond ready estimet, yet with shiny eyes doth study at thee outen crannies? What is plenty austere, yet swifter flipt to passion than a meaty stablemaid? What layeth colossal kicks against the buttox, what runneth damnasien down family lines, yet slobbereth contentment like as a puppodog when thou hast pulld a real pleaser? What is whizz, wham & drag—mass, punch, power & pride; written X to the Nth; oft found tho oft reported lost; instant winner; conniver of the cosmologicol conundra, whose answers abide in the folds of antithetic conundra? What supreme insurer requireth the most stringent concessiens of the insur-ed? What could go on riddling forever in this way with riddols concerning what I am? What am I?
And Old Fornicus refresheth his grip upon the death wand Final Say. For he hath before encounterd such voicy madness upon the air, hath seen it to turn of sudden and devour a phalanx of good men. Yea, ’twas in his youth, when that the archogoblin Azozorogue deployd phantoms in the fairway at Seti Links, and spoilt the meat of Doby the Grocer, and poppt the corn in the silos of Orville, and levitatend Princess Butch-Voilà offen the toilette, right glossy and high into the open day. And old King Pisterd, he blasten that smirking archogobbolin with iciest rebuke, and cranken out his clattering phalanx to the chase, and seen his bunch get rake-ed into a pile by spectral talons, and chompt by fictitious fangs, and churnd to sloppf, and suckt up like as slurpnoodols into the gullet of an wailing vortex bound for the void. And old Pisterd, in terrer he turnd and beaten feet for the house; and schklok! Butch-Voilà droppen right upon him and crush-ed him, daughter become rude omelette upon his head and shoulders. And he rule-ed ever after supine upon a gurney, leaking pulp and spraying venom. It yet giveth Old Fornicus the jeebies, to call up those pixures of debacle; and e’en more, to pixure broken Pisterd puddled in his raunch & goo, spewing condemnasien, and evermore squeaking bosh commandage at officers not in attendance.
Nor did Old Fornicus, in scheduling up those campaign agendae of his purposive yesteryears, ever fancy to pensil in no archogoblans for purgatien. With respect unto them he saith, Whatever is, will have to do.
Therefore delicate spake he now, saying, I am thinking, puzzol-push. (And he patted his head to attest the likely locus of thinking, tho ’twould be eons ere men of learning and guessing would all concur.)
And again came the voice thus: Who saith, Do this. . . And pfft, done it is? Who goeth bossing out the stars, compressing constellasiens, and dealing down the devil with a yawn and mocking sign?
And hearing this, the old man bethought him, In the epochs of forever since I jousted with
5
my wife, could her voice to have gruffen’d so?
But the voice brake in, saying, Now waxeth consternation here upon my fretted brow. Old Fornicus, tho thou accordest me abysmal recepsien as befitteth some acrid villain, still for thee grow roses in mine heart, and gleamydew cantoloupes. Hark now, old campainer: I am come to enfatherize thee, to gift thee with Childe, which thou mayst nuzzel and bounce, cuddol and love, e’en unto the very hour of the by-and-by that I shall call upon thee to walk it upperds the mountain to the butch’ry block. For I have taken up the devil’s wager concerning thee.
And Old Fornicus cried out, saying, Bang me blue, voice! A child? Are these abrasive mauls then the hands of a patsocake nannie? I the Assassinater have hammerd my way through the rivalry of species, laying waste to the acres, trafficking in lethalidy, renovating savage venues out where once the very sun was not safe to rise. I have slept in the burbling butt of the firefire mountain; suppt on porkopain quills and skeletin fat as the hunger stirrd; fresht my fetid breath with lye and hemolok tinctitures cookt up by the Bitch. I fought the youngest son of
But lo, a babe flieth through the window and falleth upon the floor at his feet. And seeing the babe, and hearing it to emit utterances of endearment, Old Fornicus were filld with joy, and snatcht it up, and straightway set he to cuddoling.
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| Copyright 2007- WJ Schafer & WC Smith - All Rights Reserved |
| -----------------------Chapiter | Thou Art |
| 1. A Old Battler Rousted Outen His Sleepf pp. 1-3 | |
| 2. That Voice Cometh On Like As The Very Lord! pp. 4-5 | < hookt in |
| 3. Investiture In The View That The Voice Is Lord pp. 5-8 | |
| 4. Rapture In The Sweet Symphony Of Living p. 8 | |
| 5. Fraud & Blasphemy: The Art Of The Voice Player pp. 9-10 | |
| 6. Final Price Of The Package pp.10-12 | |
| 7. Indectic pp. 13-14 |
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