Living Crappily Ever After

In the Land Of Sir Real, the Sky is a living thing, a swirling dancing dream of colors of Life's promise. Children play at the Rainbow's end, mirror butterflies dazzle in fluttering reflections. Neon waters beckon to be walked upon under the all seeing, all knowing Sky. But treasures are not always accepted beneath the psychedelic Son.

Blessed be the Factory, for from within it flows the lifestyle of the Dead Head. Hallowed be its name. The size of the Factory Grind is immeasurable, no one there gets out alive. Each day it covers more Land with Industrial Haste, it turns Water into Whine, and drains colors from the Sky leaving Frack Holes. Resistance is fruitful yet no Word is heard. From the rafters, to the floor, on the ceiling and bathroom door, the sign remains the same: "There is no other Way!" Praise be to Fraud.

With the loss of Land, the route to the Factory Grind narrowed in Doom's delight, many grinders slipping off the cliff on the way in to dying. Rats in the factory saw this and laughed, renaming the path "Stairway To Leaven". But the Resident in the Blight House ate his honey upon plates of popularity and he feared for his coming Erection. "No one will love me! Who can I screw?" Last time a Resident had no one to screw he started a war in wooden desire. Wooden soldiers followed in suits of Amour with flowery courting.

His conviction to have no convictions made the Resident defender of the Sign of the Times: "There Is No Other Way". This left the Resident between a cock and hard place. "No one will love me if they are dying but There Is No Other Way! Someone please save my Erection!" This called for a Clever Endeavor by all the Resident's sin. For those fated to life in the Factory Grind, the law of Gravity was revoked by unanimous Sinataurs. "Today, you are free as a Terd!" they crowed.

Now Grinders who fell were baptized when despised. "They had no faith in the Rule Of Maul!" The Science of Civilization deemed survival a revival. "Losers are winners! The Resident's Erection gives us Direction! Life is looking up!" With eyes kept to the Sky, unseen now were the falling dead, a Politickle unreality for the Stars. The land was saved yet again, Strife goes on. Dirty Deeds come cheap, Living Dead get high when living bodies die.

In the daily Chain Pain, arrested screams jailed arrested dreams. Cuffs of the realm gave proof to the rocket's Red Scare. Dogs of Bore feasted on Drudgery's diuretic diet. Iron wills gave birth to iron clamps from leg to leg and arm to arm, stretching beyond the horizon and the horizon after that as if a continuous circle spanning the Land. Factory Shirkers wailed to the speechless Sky for Freedom and Redemption as the deaf clamps pierced sinew and skin. Ever pulled in the direction of the Factory, feeding the body by starving the soul.

But a Man in Glowing White, leaving green pastures, fought his way through the Industrial Haste, ignoring the Signs of the Times, and spoke to his chained brethren. "I bring you Good News! Life without chains is before you. No Man need be made to do right. The Truth is within and without you! Leave your miseries in the Haste!"

Speaking words of wisdom: "Could it be?" The rattling of chains ceased for the first time in Generations - maybe ever. Soothing hearts and searing wounds the song of the Glowing Man did do. Bent backs straightened, tired eyes livened, furrowed brows relaxed. The dream is not over - it has Begun. But from branded birth screeched the Cruel Rule:

One Rule to cruel them
One Rule to shine them
One Rule to sing them
And in the darkness fine them!

Motionless men in Cheer Fear knew both Rule and Song. Choose they must and not be Wrong! The story of the Wrong Song haunted every house and heart in the Land. It haunted every smile and every child. It haunted the Wind and all things Unseen. It was the Thought never to be thought, of permanent life in the Wastelands, nursing Mothers running dry, the Dope of hope gone awry - and Creeping man knowing why - forever and ever, and ever again.

Few but loud were the clangs of Chains dropping to the ground, breaking the Cruel Rule that misguided them. But too many of the Many - even the complainers and whiners, the drying and deteriorating - stood fast in burning pride, scorching steam boiling out their ears, making their stance unbearable. Like rejected lovers they called back the Unchained, hating them as starlets of the Son shining white. When finding they held the Key to their own chains, to whom could the Unmen blame their woes and wives?

Emboldened by the Shirker's Hesitation Reservation, a shot rang out across the limpless sky into the Man of Glowing White. His followers too spilled Dead Red on broken concrete decay. The Rats in the Factory made that sound only Rats can make, White E blaring on his bullhorn: "See! There is no other way!" Marching through poisoned ponds of time, the Accepted Belief rebore the Man of Glowing White a Troublemaker and Destroyer and the Rats had saved the land from the doom of Truth.

A Boy Who Did Not Know asked his Father Bother why. "We had to kill him. He was subverting our Lies."

"But what if He was right and we can live without the chain?"

"The Tyrant of Trust does not allow that! You saw how all who left the Chain died. As long as we kill those Freedom Freaks we'll always be right!"

"I'd rather Live than be right."

"You're still Young Dung and Stupid. You haven't passed your Contamination Examination."

Crushed, the boy ran out of the house, far far away into the Bungle Jungle where he found a path with a sign: "Footsteps of Hell In Heaven's Place". It was hand written, not Factory made. The Path was easy and clear which made the Boy wonder why no one else was on it. A Grey Batter brain was the jungle, impenetrable to the outside, where no law existed, not even the Cruel Rule. Every tree, every leaf, every running stream - all grey. Only the Boy's true sight gave it any color.

In the Grey Batter, right could be wrong and wrong could be right. No one wanted to learn who was holding Black Death and who White Life so in this false forest evil found praise and good derision unchallenged. The boy knew without knowing what a Scary Place this be with no absolutes. Then he heard sounds of men in white hats charging a man in a black hat.

"You there, stop! We arrest you in the name of In No Sense!"

"An arrest of no sense? What have you bad boys been up to now?"

"We're burning the crops while the Unpleasants starve. HAHAHAHA! They'll come crawling to us, increasing our Creasing - and demanding your death for it!"

"Sooner or later they will catch on to you!"

"Only if they catch on to themselves! We're wearing their White Hats! HAHAHA! No trust like Misplaced Trust!"

Since the Unpleasants wore white hats they would not deny the Word of another white hat. In the Religion of the hats there is only one rule: Always trust the color of the hat. "Why make life hard when you can be simple?" their Grotto Motto.

Dare the Boy walk further in the Footsteps of Hell? Was he not safe in Heaven's Place? He had to know.

In the distance, deep in the heart of the Bungle Jungle, voices and parties and lights. But why hide here in this Secret Secret? A sign told him he had come to the Heart Brake. The loudest noise came from the Cannibal Cabal's Casino, Worshipped Bull its calling canard. The Boy wandered inside unnoticed, insignificant to their lost eyes. One thing the Boy could not help noticing: Everyone was naked.

With Ice Dice made of human teeth, orgasmic gambling rigged on a tilted table where the die always rolled Crapped. "I'll bet you ten thousand workers!" "I'll bet a million homes!" "I'll bet all the Land!" Against a wall were ten chained Shirkers. "Everyone, tell me how great my dick is! Whoever does the worst gets thrown into the Alley to Cry Die!" With the screaming terror of the loss of Eternal Hope, one Shirker was unchained and tossed down a Brain Drain. Then the process of elimination of hope started all over again.

"See how we live! See what we give! We are the Sinner Winners holding the shiv!"

Looking for life in all the wrong places, the Boy ran back home and asked his Father Bother how their Family Misfortunes could so easily be gambled away by men they did not know. "There is no other way but to unknow what we know." His father comforted him, telling the Boy in time he too would Misunderstand and all would be well.

That night, shivering in his Rue Room, the Boy feared aloud: "How can I survive in a world like this?"