I Lay Eggs to Feel Mystical

The pouring rain the parallel the plantation a thousand miles beneath the ground. 

A second sound a simple sign a manifested fading call. 

A long long time ago. 

The celebration of artistry coronates Donatello, a king through a statue of light and devotion

A few thoughts on asparagus pee.

Asparagus pee. Oddly comforting. 

Biology at work. Replicable process. 

Science. Cause and effect illustrated in the Plato Porcelain Cave. The world makes sense. I can stand up. Here is ground, there is sky, this is how it works. 

Science indeed. And also, maybe, just maybe, a flickering shadow of the countenance of god in a stream of tinkle. 

Visage.

Penelope Ghosthead Brings the Thunder Down to the Tavern of Taciturn Despair. She is truly a rocker.

Rodney Crawbaby sat at the circular oaken table located by the bay window of the Dead Fucking Snake Tavern. The leaded glass of the window let in the light of the street lamps as Rodney Crawbaby pored over the manuscripts spread out across the table. 

He cracked his knuckles. He told the server to leave him alone. He spit on the floor, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He looked at the papers. Here is what he knew:

- Downton Abbey was an ancient seat of English political power, but

- Downton Abbey was in dire financial straits. 

- The woods around the Abbey was a hotbed of Druidic activity. They were still active, doing activities in the wooded woods, and

- there were rumors that the Druids were now attempting to contact the cosmic power that exists beyond in the space between space. That was confusing. 

- The dowager countess had enlisted the help of the Arabian sultanate for something. The end result had to be monetary, but what was the angle? What was their game. 

- and what do they have to do with the Druids?

Crawbaby looked at the calendar. Nearly the solstice. Something would happen. He held his head in frustration. He was missing something. 

Across the table the light shimmered like the rippling surface of a Swiss lake in the moonlight. Full of stars and blood and twinkling. A golden glow cut through the center, like a wolf peeing in the lake. 

Rodney looked up and saw Penelope. 

Penelope, who had been the most beautiful girl in all the abbey. It was said that she made the flowers bloom because god had a crush oh her. 

She was killed by a bear. Rodney had been about to propose. It was quite a mess. He was never able to clean the blood and grass out of the knees of his pants.

Rodney's mouth fell open agape. He suspected he might see her. But he did not know what to say. 

Penelope did not give him the chance to think. 

"Rodney. You must listen. The future of time depends on it. You must create an army. An Army of Righteous Light to combat the darkness of the Cult of Ys. They will rise up to tear the sky asunder and allow the scary space squid to enter our universe and lay its eggs in the hair nests of our children. Death will ride high if this happens and England will slowly fall into the sea as the children eat the earth. You need to bring together a righteous force of justice, each with their own special skill like radio, languages, Kung fu, wisecracking, and squeezing into a little ball to hide. First, you must talk to the monster."

Penelope began to fade away. Rodney lurched forward in his chair and opened his mouth to beg her to stay. He was so lonely. But Penelope put a finger to his lips. 

"Find the monster"

Win Forever Pyramids

Out of the way Marvin

The Druids crowd round the bright light.  Toes figurative and literal have been stepped on.  A polite shoving not energetic enough to froth into a full scrum.  

"Why the robes?" Tony the Druid wondered.  As if visibility wasn't difficult enough through the tiny eyes of their ghost machine.  He blows his hood up but it falls right down.  He is too packed in to move his arms so there he is uncomfortable with an itchy hood in front of his eyes.  It is like an inconvenient holiday tradition perpetuated out of shame and duty rather than formatted joy.  

"Just like us Druids."  Sighed Tony.  Cutting corners on some things like these cut rate Brillo pad robes.  Then going all out on a Stonehenge which gets used like what twice a year.  It is a fine henge but maybe if they went with the floor model they could've afforded a better haunting spirit.  Wasn't very scary at all this Pee Nope A Lee.  

"It's really designed for longing." Said the salesman.  "Longing is much more scary than you know scary scary." Said the salesman.

"Fuck that salesman" thought Tony.