The world is full of teachers, masters and guides in eternal truths. And the best deal is fleeting falsehoods. They know they're teachers, masters or guides in eternal truths. So they're not bothered by their falsehoods floating by. And then you've got the ones that don't know they're teachers, masters or guides.

Like Mr. Loowie. What does he do? Well, he sits and talks like all the others.

Goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure know my bikes. Remember that broken down bike I fixed. You don't remember. I remember. That bike's still running. Won't start me a bike shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't know about bikes, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, gonna see if my bike needs fixing. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Or goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure know my way round town. Remember that old shop on that old street? You don't remember. I remember that old shop on that old street. That old shop is closing down. Couldn't make ends meet. I met the owner the end of the week. Couldn't find a buyer. I can buy that. Won't start me a tour guide shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't know about town, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, gonna try to find my way round town. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Or goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure had some fun working at the grocer shop. And at the drug store shop. And at the stationer's shop I had so much fun with the girls. We laughed, we laughed. No ***** tonky, mind you. I won't start me a fun shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't  know about having fun, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, now I know where to look for a laugh. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Follower meets friend. Sounds like no way traffic. Eh, yeah, well, gotta go somewhere, may as well hitch a ride. Sounds like he's selling you *******. Eh, yeah, well, they say it's good for the garden. Gotta give it to you, not a pinch of falsehood in there. Eh, yeah, well, I guess that much is true. Tell you what, he can only handle one follower at a time. Ah, reminds me of my dentist.

This guy Al ‘Bag’ Daddy drives up in his limousine. It’s the home of his friend who is poor as a rat.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy parks his car against the garbage can and smashes it.
His friend on the porch looks up and says, Hey Al, new car?
No, says Al, this is my old one. Want it?
His friend says, you buy me a new garbage can.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy curses and drives off, screaming, you’re gonna stay trash yourself.

Al ‘Bag’ Daddy comes around to visit his friend again, who is poor as dirt.
He drives up in a new sports car, dressed in a fur coat.
He screeches to a halt, but manages to tear up a rug hanging over the porch balcony.
Hey Al, got a new coat? No, this used to be my dad’s. Want it?
So I can use it as a rug?
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy curses and races off, screaming, my shoes wouldn’t want you as a doormat.

Al ‘Bag’ Daddy comes around to his friend again who is poor as a match stick.
He drives up in a Hummer with a green Stetson on his head. The vehicle screeches to a halt, knocking down a just planted young apple tree.
Hey Al, got a new hat?
No, it used to be my gardeners’. Want it?
Send along your gardener with a new apple tree.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy curses and races off, screaming, tree? You sit there all day, just like one.
Hey Al, got a point.

The friend popped up at Al’s mansion on an antique bike. He sideswiped a marble statue of a cherub.
Al ‘Bag’ Daddy shouted, you’re gonna pay for the smallest scratch.
Friend said, want the bike? I got two, one too much.
Yeah, Al said, seeing a profit, gimme the bike. I love anything on wheels.
But how are you gonna get back home?
Is that limousine still on offer?

The Imperfectionist looked out of a window. Actually, he looked at the window. Within it's frame a woman appeared. Do I fit, she said. Fit in as you like, he said. But I would prefer you cut some corners. You want corners? How about top left? Bottom right, whatever. Hey, you just want me out of the picture.
That would be picture perfect.

The Imperfectionist sat down and turned on his tv. He concentrated on the sideground images. A war correspondent appeared on the screen. Around him, desert debris, military wrecks, abandoned bodies. Interactive question: what's that rock behind you? Interactive answer: I refer you to the company geologist.  Q: could you do you commentary on the left side of the screen? A: and step onto a roadside bomb? Now that's a perfect scenario.

The Imperfectionist was tired of framed images. He stepped outside and moved like a camera. Straight ahead a young girl approached, eyes glued to her phone. Left of her, a scooter moved onto the sidewalk. Right of her, two women loudly discussed a daughter's dental problems. Above her, a drone whirred. Below her, the pavement showed it's beautiful cracks. Skewz me, I'm looking for... he said. She looked up the address. It's right here, sir. He slapped his forehead. Oh no, that's a perfect disappointment.

Two guys pass each other on the street.
Hey, do I know you?
Could be, in a past life.
No, you look just like a Western actor.
Well, I act like a Westerner, but I’m currently studying a new role.
Week later. A guy passes a woman in a sports center.
Hey, aren’t you some famous tennis player? she said.
Well, the only ball I ever hit never came back.
Month later. A teenager passes a guy in a bar.
Hey, didn’t we have some beers together?
In the Crosscut Saw? In the Dying Buffalo?
Well, I remember sawing wood, and that buffalo died on me long ago.
I’ll give your regards to my brother.
Ah, get outta my face.
Two guys pass each other in a dream.
Hey, you’re my double.
Yeah, where’ve you been hanging out?

First notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber surfaces from his underground. The plan is there. The object waits. Scan the Terminal Station. Where's the multitude? As if a bomb just dropped. What? Am I trying to be funny? Like the guy over there. Clown promoting cuddlies. Sure toying in the wrong place.

Second notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber shuffles over to the tame side of town. The plan has changed. The object talks. Scan the Parlay-Mental Building. More City-Zens outside than inside. Camera's and guns ready for the shooting match. Carny-Falls. A quarter a shot. You hit bull's eye, your picture is taken. I'm getting funnier by the minute. Like the kid over there. Sandwich suit for some sandwich. Talking bread. What a picture.

Last notice. The Sewer-Side Bomber sneaks over to the polished perimeter. The plan is definite. The object is luck-sure-us. Get this! He walks into the Incontinental Hotel. Ah, marble floor, uniformed smiles, expensive outdoor garb, trolley cases. The Super-Ego has landed. ****, stop being funny. Like the man over there. Buffoon with a boo-quay of roses. Welcome, sir! Hey, what am I here for? Okay, farewell flower. Left hand presents the flower. Right hand chops his breast bone to splinters.

The Sewer-Side Bomber wakes up in hospital. Guy sitting at bedside. I was that funny one, he said. All three? Yep. Knew I wasn't  funny, the Sewer-Side Bomber said. Neither was I, the guy said. Funny though, I had this gutter feeling we went way back.

A  guy wakes up one morning and decides he wants to be immortal.
He’s healthy, well to do, reasonably handsome and extremely unsatisfied.
Thru Insta, Tiktok, Facebook and a chain smoking friend he learns of a firm offering immortality.
Welcome, says the Immortician, you’re at the right place.
My TomTom told me so too.
How does this work and how much does it cost?
There are three stages, each increasing in intensity and in costs.
First stage amounts to 1499 USD.
This is rekindling your lusts.
How do I do that?
Unfortunately, our method leaves you entirely to your own devices.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, what did you experience?
Well, I pursued many a lust, but that resulted in osteoarthritis of the hip.
Excellent. Now for the second stage.
Your imagination needs to run away with you.
How?
Unfortunately our method leaves it entirely up to your own fantasy.
And the costs?
3000 USD.
Can I pay by installment?
Naturally, the term is infinite.
By the way, the guy says, you yourself look younger than three weeks ago.
Your efforts are our gain.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, how was the run?
Well, my imagination is in overdrive, no sensible thought in my head, but I did develop a migraine.
Excellent. Now for the last stage. You need to become a child again.
I won’t ask how.
No, the child in you will show you the way.
And the costs are?
6000 USD.
Drop dead, the guy says, you’ve become even younger.
So you’re saying you’re showing me what’s in store for me?
This is reversed obsolescence.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, how did it play out?
Well, I whimpered, snacked and shrieked to my heart’s delight,
but after climbing a tree I ended up in IC with a heart attack.
Excellent, you’re dead right on track.
However, we strongly recommend a follow-up.
Costing?
10000 USD.
Hey, you’re getting younger again.
I suggest you pay me!
And the guy grabs the Immortician by the throat and strangles her.
After which he drops dead with a humongous *******.

Detective: We suspect a love making that got out of hand.

The Powerlesser stood in front of his door. Inside or outside, that was the answer. Right, outside he went. He met a value guarding man. The Powerlesser asked him: what can I do outside? Exhibit your virtue, Mr Value Guard said. And what if nobody comes to see it? You double the admission price. I wouldn't pay that price myself.

The Powerlesser stood in front of his door. Inside or outside, that was the answer. Right, inside he went. In his kitchen a quick goldy little girl waited for him. The Powerlesser asked her: what can I do in my kitchen? Pour me a cold soda or make me a warm mud bath, Miss Quick Gold said. How do I choose? Well, just do something different. Like putting some paint and paper in front of you? Can do. And you paint your face for war.

The Powerlesser stood in front of his door. Inside or outside, that was the answer. Right, he stood on the threshold. An open directed young boy came to his door. The Powerlesser asked him: what can I do on this threshold? Just stand there and listen to my story, Mr Open Direction said. I'm standing and I'm listening. Oh well, I haven't got one today. Alright, in the meantime I'll listen to my feet.

The Impersonal Trainer decided to open shop. I need a sign. On my door? I don't have a door. Next to my tent? I don't have a tent. On my forehead? Shoowee, I have a forehead, but I want it blank. Drop it, let's start up this bizniz with some buzzness.

Hey, there's a client. Watt-chew want? Oh, trainer, I'm in my head all day. Talkin' about day, you in there all night as well? Oh yeah, at night it takes over totally. You hit the nail. Let your night be your day. You mean, sleepwalk? You just graduated. Dream on, here's your money.

Hey, there's the next client. Watch-hue want? Oh trainer, I lost control over my body. One limb shakes, other stiffens? Oh yeah, one has to stop, the other has to go. Now, I got a thousand-and-one exercises. Do I do them all? Eh, that's gonna cost you. Pick one at random. You gotta force me to a choice. Force! You're halfway there. Do number 134. How many times? 134. Where's the machine? The machine, that's you. Go buy yourself a new whip, here's your money.

Hey, there's another client. Wash-shoe want? Oh trainer, I got trouble with feeling and emotion. Ah, destination arrived. Fee-ling is about being the one who pays, e-motion is about the one who virtually moves. Gibberish, explain. Shush, that's hard. Walk a mile in your wallet. Oh yeah, I'm paying everyday. Now, walk a mile inside yourself. Like breathing? Looky-here, you're getting somewhere.
Well, I'm moving on, here's your bitcoins.

The Impersonal Trainer sat down to do his numbers. One: I'm helping people that help themselves. Two: I'm helping myself who doesn't know what help he needs. Three: I'm helping the Help-Thing that doesn't need help. Ah, stop, this getting personal.

The Gifter had a job to do. He wasn't sure what it was, but he took it in hand anyway. At the start of the meeting a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient wondered: what does he want from me? Oh, just see it as a gesture, the Gifter said. Like a friendly smile.

The Gifter had another job to do. Again he wasn't sure what it was, but …. what the heck. After the first lesson he went up to the teacher and a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient was amazed: I didn't expect this.  What do I do with this choice of nuts? Oh, just see it as a first helping, the Gifter said. Make some tea and put them in a bowl.

The Gifter had a job to do. Again. He wasn't sure what it was, but... he enjoyed the feeling. At the house of a lazy friend in need a gift materialized in his hand. The friend was embarrassed: What's this? I must say I appreciate it, but it feels like you're wrapping me in paper. Oh, just see it as a kick starter, the Gifter said. All you have to do is unwrap.

The Gifter met up with his brother, the Grifter. Long time no speak, the Gifter said. Yeah, how's the job going? the Grifter said. Can't complain. Seeing myself as a fraud works like a devil. I took your advice, the Grifter said. Seeing myself as a friend pays off divinely.

A gift materialized in their hands. Why do I deserve this, the Gifter said. I deserve this and more, the Grifter said.

Talking about the F-Word, let's talk.

Hey, it's a guy: F. Word. F. Word becomes F. Lesh.

F. Word looked at his watch. Saw the Metro-Gnome. Little sucker just keeps walking. F. Word watched his look. Narrow tunnels, deep sink holes, wide open spaces.

Here we go, he thought. Steps into his own pipe. Blackness breakable What's that over there? An old friend calls out to him. Hey, got some new clothes for you. Yeah, you deal in shrouds. So? What's the fear? You're gonna get dressed up in the end anyway. And after you see the light. The light I see now is a fight.

Here we go again, he thought. Steps into his own chasm. Darkness drinkable. After some deep falling he plunks down in an inch of water. What’s that over there? Another old friend calls out to him. Hey, got some new proteins for you. Yeah, the fleas, and who ends up as food? So? What's the fear? You're gonna get eaten anyway. And after there’s the apple tree. I'll be the apple, I'll flee.

Here we go again, he thought. Steps into his own vistas. Brownout boatable. Another old friend calls out to him. Hey, got some new ship for you. Yeah, the one that carries me nowhere. So? What's the fear? You're gonna be shipped off anyway. And your last Port of Call will be the Court of Pall. Must say, you got a way with words. You just gave me the floats.

The friends met in Mr. Koestler's Twilight Bar. How come we hardly ever see you here? they said to F. Word.  Keep getting lost, get into a fight, have to run, end up on my back in the canal. Boy, you still got your looks. How do you keep 'm up? Oh, those looks. I just traded in my Kingdom.

There's a living one, he was, he is and always will be. Waiting for the Messiah. Expecting another living one to be sent his way. Sure he would come. Cry it out loud for crying out loud. This one could not exist without a public. So he went looking for a seeing, hearing, feeling individual.

A man in a balloon just landed on earth. Ah, this one's ready, the Mess-Sire thought. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Well, all I know is that I just came down. What did you see up there? A small guy waving up at me. Oh yes, I'm small. Messiah, dunno. Could you help fold the balloon?

A snow covered girl stopped next to him at the traffic light. This one is ready to be warmed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Phew, all I know is I got a bunch of love letters from heaven. And what do they say? the Mess-Sigher said. Hey, love letters are about love? Wanna read one?

A boy dropped out of a tree. Broke his leg. He cried out loud. Yes, the Mess-**** thought. This one's ready to be healed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? ****, mister, you mean the siren? I need some guys with a stretcher. They won't help. No? Who's gonna carry me to hospital? Eh yeah, that they do. Won't heal your soul though. Want my soul, you can have my broken leg.

The Mess-Sire, the Mess-Sigher and the Mess-**** needed a break. They entered a coffee bar. This is a mess, nobody's listening. At that very moment the Messiah knocked at their door. Nobody home. He slipped into the guise of a postman and wrote a note. Dear believers, you're never home when I call. What do I do? Land in a balloon, pop up at at traffic light, fall out of a tree. You make so much noise you can't hear.

It's been a long hard search, but you know what? Humpty Dumpty turns out to have a brother. In the end he just popped up between the lives of so many other unknown kin.

This guy, Humpty Dumpster, seems to try what nobody, king's horses nor king's men, is really successful at. He goes around picking up pieces.

Humpty Dumpster walks and stalks the big city. Woman comes out her door. Dumps an old table lamp without a shade. Humpty Dumpster picks it up. What you gonna do with that? Go pick up the missing piece. And yo! Next corner, a milky glass shade. How's that for a short circuit, he thinks. Now wait for a real one.

Humpty Dumpster walks and stalks a provincial town. Hey, look. Sweet little frying pan lid. Heavy glass, easy handle. Humpty Dumpster picks it up. So, young knight, where's your sword, an old guy says. Eh, different game. See if it fits my frying pan. And yo! It does. Only just. Oh well, my floor anxiously waits for the shattering.

Humpty Dumpster walks and stalks his own street. Pinpointed eye. Like this thing asks to be seen. Deep wooden frame, ceramic head with fish on top, broken off tail sits with it. Humpty Dumpster picks it up. Mister, it's a throwaway, it's *****, you get sick, a young girl says. Maybe I'll be sick, but this thing is gonna be better. Glue the tail back on, surround it with animal figurines. Bad art is easy as a good ****.

Humpty Dumpty calls his brother. What's I'm hearing? You picking up pieces? Try picking up mine. Yeah, can do. But you gonna look older and not gonna be the old you. Who cares, Egghead.

The Turkish Bath Therapist had an appointment with a patient. He entered the steam bath of Spa Scanty. Inside an old man waited for his fifteen minutes of blame. How was your day, the Turkish Bath Therapist said. My friend's an ache in the head. Don't let him in there. You got an other heated room to receive him in? No sweat.

The Turkish Bath Therapist had an appointment with a second patient. He entered the steam bath of Spa Spacy. Inside a young woman waited for her fifteen minutes of shame. How was your day, the Turkish Bath Therapist said. My friend's all over me. Dip yourself in warm oil and slither out. What kind of oil? Try one that smells the best. No sweat.

The Turkish Bath Therapist had an appointment with a last patient. He entered the steam bath of Spa Sprawly. Inside a young girl waited for her fifteen minutes of frame. How was your day, the Turkish Bath Therapist said. My friend's bullying me to death. Ask her if she's enjoying it. I go all red in the face. So you're asking for the bull to charge. Let her charge and step aside. The finishing ****** will come from elsewhere. No sweat.

This Hot Turkey Method sure is a sweat, the Turkish Bath Therapist thought. Got to hurry now, my FreezeFysician is waiting

Two women, over a latte, a salad and a glass of water.
Clearly plotting something.
Let’s listen.
Why don’t we put together an alphabetical almanac of *******.
There are so many around, in such a variety.
Yeah, take Boregasm.
Both the drill and the ennui.
Seems like the end of a long string.
And Boargasm.
Happy as pigs in ***** sheets.
Lots of grunting and wallowing.
Coregasm.
Oh goodness, that sounds so spiritual.
Takes years of tantra.
And then, Choregasm.
Yes! Doing the dishes, vacuuming. Ecstasy
as a household appliance.
And Doorgasm.
Could be more of a male thing.
But being impaled sounds not bad for a woman either.
Foregasm.
Oh, just thinking about the real thing, a virtual
*******.
*******.
Coming up for air out of
a ******* morass of mud and blood.
Whoregasm.
Talking about fake news.
Males love it, women, well, they do it.
Loregasm.
Oh, that’s mythical. Like an affair
between a hero and a heroine of old.
Moregasm.
Yes! Don’t you dare stop.
Moorgasm.
Ah, 1001 nights, lots of women
sharing, a man losing his appetite.
How about this: Oargasm.
What? Penetrated by an oar. Feel it already, meanwhile
floating on the water, in the company
of long strong rowers. Nirvana?
Oregasm.
Now we’re mining deep, suffocating and
claustrophobic, but hot and dirtblack.
Poorgasm.
Down and out, it’s still there,
a short cut to heaven.
Poregasm.
Out of millions of little holes
all sighs and cries.
Pourgasm.
Emptying a bottle of champagne
over one’s own head.
Roargasm.
Definitely the lion of them all,
male power can excite the woman.
Snoregasm.
Yeah, well, some guys start snoring before, some after.
Women snore too, can be ecstasy in a dream.
Soregasm.
Hope the pain turns out sweet.
Soargasm.
Rocket out of pocket, up and away,
hard landing though.
Toregasm.
Oh no, supreme torture,
looking for one’s limbs afterward.
Yoregasm.
A gasp from the past.
Clattering armor, ripping robes.
No shortage in noise.
Yourgasm.
That’s the one you’re looking for,
no copying or faking, silent or loud,
never to forget.

Think we got them all.
All those gasms give me the spasms.
Another latte?

What? The earth is flat? Then I’m a balloon.
No, you want proof?
You bet your flat feet.
I gotta warn you, parties will try to bamboozle you.
Try me.
Take a long walk with a glass of water in you hand. If it spills, the earth is round.
After.
Well, I  took a long walk, got thirsty and started seeing things, so drank a bit, and the water spilled over.
See, parties put substances in the water.
Try me again.
Take a plane and if you end up topsy-turvy, it’s round.
After.
Well, we ended topsy-turvy alright, cause the pilot started doing somersaults.
See, parties manipulated your perception.
Try me again.
Go find the largest telescope there is, look through it and if you don’t see a sign saying THE END OF THE WORLD, it’s round.
After.
Well, I saw a sign, but it said NO TRESPASSING.
Yeah, parties pretend to have secret military bases.
Heard talk about that, where they keep guys from other planets and their real flat flying things.

Door opens. It’s a party.  Two girlfriends, dressed to the nines,  leave their partners and retreat to the powder room.
You think my guy sees what I’m wearing?
Think mine does?
Let’s swap dresses and see what happens.
In an urban minute they walk over to the bar.
Male, good looking but going on sixty: Didn’t I see you two on some catwalk?
What, the dress or me?
Good question, not sure I would recognize you without.
Girls walk on to the dance floor.
Woman, tattoo-faced, XTC-eyed: Didn’t I see you two in the tattoo parlor?
Sure, dress feels like it’s on us to stay.
Don’t worry, my eyes are lasers.
Go peel a banana.
Girls find their boys.
Boys: What you said is right, music’s too loud to say anything.
Then don’t say it.
Did I say something wrong?
Girls decide to swap back.
In an urban minute they’re back and bump into their boys.
Sweeties, something the matter?
What would that be?
Looks like you went and changed.

Well, one keeps company, doesn't one? Two, three, four, and counting. And any number can sit in an establishment and order drinks. And this company is served, isn't it? And service it will be.

Any number sits in a boulevard bar and orders three beer and a liquor. The barista brings the three beer and an empty liquor glass. Don't see the liquor, any number says. Oh yeah, she says, I forgot to say, take a deep look first. I see a tiny bubble of air, any number says. Well, that got me light in the head, she says. Won't do for me, any number says. Get to your senses and fill it up. Certainly, sir.

Any number sits in a lakeside lounge. And orders two soft drinks, one liquor and a beer. She brings the soft drinks, the liquor and an empty beer glass. Don't see the beer, any number says. Oh yeah, she says, I forgot to say, take a quick look first. I see a glass balloon, ready to take off, any number says. Hullaballoon, she says, that's why they call me a floater. Won't do for me, any number says. Get your feet on the ground and fill it up. Certainly, sir.

Any number sits in a seaside beer garden and orders one soft drink, one beer and two liquors. She brings the beer, the liquors and an empty soft drink glass. Don't see the soft drink, any number says. Oh yeah, I forgot to say, take a long look first. I see my own sweat dripping down in the glass. That's my cloud breaking, she says. Won't do for me, any number says, take your cue from the lightning and fill it  up. Certainly, sir.

It's nice to be nice, the barista thought. But King Customer is not ready for the service of an Empty Empress.

What’s to worry about?
Well, you got global warming, the climate clinic says.
You got seas rising, temps rising, kung flu flying, fauna failing,
floods and droughts fighting to a draw.
So? We’ll die or live
What’s more?
Well, you got global warring, the perennial peace promoter says.
You got the oily-garchs grabbing, the bitcoiners blackwashing the banks, the banks heisting customers, big countries nibbling at small countries, refugees swamping seas and lands.
So? We’ll die or live.
What’s more?
Well, you got schmillions of global worryers.
You got fears floating, angers accumulating, distress dispersing, nerves wrecking, chests burning like charcoal, knots klodding throats, sweat pouring out of pores, knees keeling but not kneeling, heads hurting, hearts eating themselves.
That sounds more like it.
How do I join this army?
They’re signing up at a building called The Void.
Uncle Shame and Auntie Blame want you.
Marching against or for what?
Warring and warming themselves.

Now, he ended up on an island. Was he alone? You bet. An island in a city, an ocean, a desert.
Every once in a while someone came by or he met this someone and they formed a twosome.
On a Monday some flotsam carried in Man Monday.
He showed him how to contemplate the moon, sit still, wait till the sunlight shone around and in him. And with the sun Man Monday disappeared.
On a Tuesday who walked up but Man Tuesday.
This guy was service personified. He saw to his every need and wakened an urge in him to serve himself. So he kicked him out, with many thanks.
On a Wednesday in came lively Man Wednesday. What entertainment, philosophical conversation. Like, see that sand castle? That’s a mirage. True, but wait till it rains, it’ll be hell-to-shelter. At that point Man Wednesday’s course had run it’s course.
On a Thursday in parachuted Man Thursday. Now, this how you make a fire. For roasting and warming. Good, let’s cook because it’s warm enough here. After the meal Man Thursday rocketed off back to the skies.
On a Friday in crusoed Man Friday. From an earlier story he knew this one was as loving as he was silent. Smile, big brown eyes, was all he communicated. And his silence was warm and cold, sweat and shiver. Like a fever. One day he canoed off to his own island.
On a Saturday slowly Man Saturday emerged. Together they grovelled and toiled. Things fell apart, they learned patience and resilience. Man Saturday was slow to leave, there was no hurrying him.
On a Sunday in marched Man Sunday. The party began, music and dance. All in worship of the Copper Cudgel, the Sacred Scorcher, the Friendly Furnace. And left him with the debris.
And who came by the next day?
Man Tomorrow. All open space, 360 degrees view, that’s what he had to offer.
Anything can happen
Anyone can come by
Anywhere you find without looking
Anyhow something shows
Anyway….. well, he goes without saying.

The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge attended a party of a wealthy friend.
He said: Why the celebration?
You got a bus load in the bank, and yet your bed costs you more than all the food you'll eat.
Why not live in a different hotel every night?
The wealthy friend said:
Scuse my Rush-un, I may be a ruin inside,
but at least I now am a high rise on the outside.
But now you have two things to lose, your money and your mansion.
So your one plus one makes two minuses.
Worry never comes singular. My high rise is royal to me.
The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge volunteered to serve the homeless a Christmas dinner.
He put a platter of chicken in front of a bearded blue eye.
He asked the blue eyed beard:
What would you do if you had a bus load in the bank?
The blue bearded eyes said:
Have a party till I farted it all away.
What's the celebration?
Scuse my Germ-un, I may be a ruin on the outside,
but at least I'm a high rise on the inside.
You're talking to His ****-All Lowness, my ruin is royal to me.
The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge got hungry and dropped in at a sandwich shop.
He ordered a club sandwich and sat down.
The shop owner brought him his sandwich and
the young old man asked him:
What would you do with a bus load in the bank?
The same as I'm doing now.
Plus give myself and others an extra.
Where's the celebration?
Scuse my Nether-Lance, I may be a one story guy inside,
but at least I'm a one story guy on the outside as well.
And that story is royal to me.
Eat your sandwich, otherwise it'll have you.

There's the list. How many items? None. So? We have a nothing to do list. Who's listing? Enter Mister Lister. He's listing to be missed.

Even Mister Lister needs to go shopping every once in awhile. He bumps into a neighbor. Let me see your list. Ah, bleeding to feed. What's on yours, Lister? I got a nobody, a nowhere, a nothing and no time. Where's that gonna get you? Somebody, somewhere, something, some time. Well, you'll steal to meal. Lister laughed. I'll go meet to eat.

Even Mister Lister needs to work for a living every once in awhile. He's got a business. Things should go out, things should come in. Money should go out, money should go in. Customers should go out, customers should come in. Lister, what you telling to sell? You got nothing on your list, you're gonna find it. Ah, well, that's easy, every buy a goodbye. Chuckle. So I'm the fellow to hello, Lister said.

Even Mister Lister needs to reflect on life every once in awhile. He's got a teacher. Some call him a Goo-Roo. What does this guy teach? Longing to belong, aiming to name, striving to arrive. Lister chants: seeking to freak, spinning to grin, fooling to cool. The Goo-Roo is a sly guy. Great list, Lister. Eh, master, it's no list. I just misunderstood. Now, that's the door to enlightenment, my friend. Oh, master, all that light's only gonna show a whole lotta dots. Ah, connecting the dots. You're close, Lister.  Eh, master, what do we get? Just a straight line.

Shucks, Mister Lister thought,  I'm just summing to hum.

The tennis player who only played the ball on the lines
was invited to a match by a young girl.
The young girl was talented.
The line hitter kept hitting the lines, spreading his shots,
and in the end the young girl couldn't run them down.
The line hitter said: Did you enjoy it as much as I did?
Well, she said, you don't seem to play for points and
yet you win.
The line hitter said: True, I like hitting the lines more than anything else,
and I would've let you win, if only you could return my shots.
The tennis player who only played the ball on the lines
asked a young man if he liked to play a match.
The young man was a club champion.
The man kept hitting the lines, spreading his shots,
but now in such a way that the young man could keep
the ball in play longer.
The young man scored lots of points, but in the end he lost the match.
The line hitter said: Did you enjoy it as much as I did?
The young man said: No, you kept me hanging and in the end
still cut the rope.
The line hitter said: Well, you seemed to like the dangling.
The tennis player who only played the ball on the lines
couldn't find anyone on the court to play with.
So he went to the bar and saw an old man sitting alone.
The line hitter asked the old man if he would like to play a match.
The old man had been a many time national champion in the past.
The old man said:  Why not?
The line hitter kept hitting the lines, spreading his shots.
The old man easily returned and presented him with easy shots.
After hitting the lines 87 times in the final game,
the line hitter stumbled and fell.
The old man delivered a powerful shot, that went way out.
The line hitter said: Did you enjoy it as much as I did?
The old man said: What I especially enjoyed was letting someone win who plays as if he doesn't play to win.

Mister Two Point Two Miller considered himself always in need of free cash. He put his money where his heart was. Could he call himself wealthy? Well, maybe medium prosperous, medium-lite rich or ultra-lite tycoonish. So, the world was his treasure island.

Mister Two Point Two Miller washed ashore and looked around. Wait, there's another guy on his turf. What you looking for, the other guy said. How about anything over two point two mil? Ah, why that number? Random. Don't you dig that way. No, when I stumble over it, I'll find. Yeah, you'll stumble alright.

Mister Two Point Two Miller woke up on the beach and … eh, no looking around. He had a heartache. Two guys were digging a hole and dropped something in it. They sneaked away. Let's see what's in there. Hashtag. It's x point x mil! The two guys visited him in his beach hut. When they left, he was unconscious for two point two hours.

Mister Two Point Two Miller couldn't sleep. His head was a jungle, his mouth a desert. But his heart was his money. He picked up a torch and went for a prowl. An unlucky moon rolled around heaven all night. Jeez, you scare me, a voice said. I'm not looking for you. Well, you sure found me, the avatar said. Are you real? Hear who's asking. Uh, yeah, you got a point. Thnx for the point, but I gotta go. Seems you haven't found the two point two yet. How do you know I'm looking? Tss, we virtual things have a line on each other.

Right, I'm sticking with you. Mister you're welcome. We two got the point, let's go find the other two.

We have a Baroness and a diplomat. They were a team in a global organization. And they had an affair. And both were addicted to something. She to ****** and he to saving the world.
She promised him to quit and he promised her to quit.
He promised to quit if she promised to submit to a clinic after he quit his world saving addiction.
She promised to enter the clinic if he promised to leave the world’s stage.
They sat in a hotel room and she says, for the time being you can use you diplomatic status and pouches to get me the brown sugar. He said, the world saver he was, that could be great cover, for the time being.
Diplomaniak, I love you. Baroness, you sweet Brownie, I love you.
So for the time being as it was nothing changed.
The diplo haggled and joked with the dealers. He had learned the trade from his parents who both had been junkies. So he bought the best of the best. The Baroness took it for granted she got the best of the best.
Pouches came and went and the diplo covered it all up with a crazy story. About them containing samples of biochemicals used in warfare. And used by him to expose rogue states. All to prevent exposing his rogue mate.
Dealers asked him, you on the sugar?
No, it’s for my sugar. I’m on a drop of whiskey and a puff of tobacco.
But then time being as it was something changed.
The diplo finally found a suitable successor.  One who wasn’t trying to save the world. The world decided it would do it’s saving it self.
So in came a peace loving and peaceful negotiator. A man who extended existing wars and supported starting new ones.
The Baroness booked herself into the clinic. The diplo visited her every day. This time without the sugar but with a bottle of crème de cacao for her and a drop of whiskey for him. The nurse expressly had forbidden any stimulants in the clinic, so the diplo used a different pouch. He bought a large chocolate box. Together they retreated to a secluded spot in the garden and enjoyed sips of their respective browns.
One day the Baroness said, I’ve got to tell you something.  I’ve fallen in love.
With whom?
With the nurse.
Well, that’s better than being married to the needle, said the diplo.
You don’t care?
I care a lot but only for you.
Her new lover barred him from visiting her.
But the diplo found a way around this. He mimicked the voices of her family members and got her to visit him in their usual hotel rooms. There they sipped their browns in secret.
But the time being as it was one of them died. And when that happened their last words to each other were that they stopped making promises to each other.

The White Hole thought to itself: I need another hole to fit in with. It scanned parks, meadows and forests. And stumbled into a Rabbit Hole. Hey, watcha doin', the rabbit said. I'm not trying to blow you away, rabbit. I'm just testing if I fit in with your hole. You're too glaring, the Rabbit Hole screamed. Get your laser light out of my cozy darkness. And out whooshed the White Hole.

The White Hole continued it's search for a hole to fit in with. It scanned war zones, battlefields and cyber bunkers. And nearly fell into a Man Hole. Hey, watcha doin', the man said. I'm not trying to blow you away. I'm just testing if I fit in with your hole. It's getting much too hot in here, the Hole said. Snap off that nuclear plant of yours, I wanna be cold and uncomforto. And out whooshed The White Hole.

The White Hole continued it's search for a hole to fit in with. It scanned the universe, both outside and inside. And bumped into a Black Hole. Hey Whitey, watcha doin', the Black Hole said. Sorry, Blacky, I'm not trying to blow you away. I'm just testing if I fit in with your hole. Well, Whitey, I can tell you this: you gotta wait till I'm done.
How long you think you gonna take?  Ages, you call 'em light years. You can try my *******. Blacky, any hole of yours, light seconds I’ll be there.

Too long
to walk
to bike
to lie down
too light
daylight
days on end
hanging around
around and around
but, wait, I’m
indulging
in aimless
blabber
too much ogling
what I find
is a whole
different ***
the buds
are late
particularly the
young ones
too late
for a
blooming heart
too light
in vain
I look
to see
if I don’t
see my hand
anymore
too much water
the glass is
already full
too good
in good faith
the sun
spirits itself
away
too bad

At five in the morning
in peeps
bona fide sunshine
thru my blanket
& my eye,
lowly it loafs
on the street,
out spaces
the early
innocence,
gangster gal,
anything you say
from now on
can be used
against you.

A boy walked in a mist.
He couldn't see for a hundred meters.
He felt he was lost.
He walked on, but the mist only thickened.
He followed a path that suddenly ended.
And now? he said to himself.
Next to him a hedgehog appeared out of the bush.
Hedgehog, he said, how do you find your way in this dense mist?
Well, said the hedgehog, I'm a prickly animal and my sharp pins sense
whether there’s danger or not.
But, said the boy, I'm lost and afraid.
Now, said the hedgehog, that's because you only use your eyes.
What you see is just mist and that's nothing to be afraid of.
But I don't have your prickly pins, said the boy.
Oh, said the hedgehog, but if you're afraid of the fog, just sit down
and wait till it dissolves.
How long? said the boy.
Just how long it takes, said the hedgehog.
Remember, your eyes are connected to your brain.
And so are your skin, ears and nose. Those are your pricklies.
I'll tell you what, said the boy, can I sit next to you for a while?
Right, said the hedgehog, sit down and enjoy what you see,
because what you see is mystery, not danger.