Singing worship songs is sweet however. That’s not the one option to worship. Daddy mentioned, perhaps to make Larry stop singing. There are lotѕ of ways to worship.
Well, maybe it wasn’t a great idea for Daddy to expel little Larry Flynt from the church choir because look at what he’s doing now. It seems there really are a lot of ways to worship! —Tati & Tony (Association of the Malicious, Evil & Nefarious)
In our previous episode, Tony introduced Tati to ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ books. But Tati, like a real clever dick, quickly googled it, pretending to know what they were. Suddenly, a mysterious man in black appeared out of nowhere…
They’d decided to meet at the Greater Cachalot Mall, which was more akin to a bustling mini metropolis than an actual mall. Located on an island in international waters, it lay somewhere between Ukraine and Australia, and required no Visa to visit. Tati travelled there via the Trans-Zhmerynka Portalway while Tony took the TUMS Oceania Tube.
Tony arrived first, lugging three huge suitcases behind him. They were filled with god knows what, and the hotel staff were understandably curious. Who could possibly need that much crap? What the hell was it? Was it clothes or something nefarious like money for a drug drop? Tony did have the bedraggled appearance of a dealer after all.
Tati appeared twenty minutes later with her habitual backpack and a mint lollipop. She slapped Tony’s back, causing him to choke on his soda. “Are you drinking that slop again?” Tony winced at her pointed question. “You boob! When will you drop dead from diabetes? I won’t be coming to your funeral! And don’t complain that I didn’t warn you!”
They were looking at each other with a mixture of love and hate, and therefore didn’t notice a mysterious man in black slipping quietly behind them and making a beeline for Tony’s suitcases…
Uncle, tell me a bedtime story!
Promise me sleep right after that?
Bearded myths say there’s a purgatory
Right after death, right after begat.
Its goddamned inmates are forever doomed to Never succeed in finding ease of breath,
Getting sick with chronic, emotional flu,
Insides torn ‘tween flame life and ice death.
No way, Iron Uncle, do they still have human pith!
Godspeed, Tiny Tin. People are just a silly ancient myth.
It looks like we’re pretty desperate. For the sake of poetry, we’ll readily bear anything. The last round brought us an invasion of cockroaches. We wonder what will happen this time…
A bout of saporous lolly acne? A rain of worthless bitcoin that darkens the skies for months? Our legs dancing an endless Eskimo jig? It’ll be worse than the ten plagues of Egypt from the Old Testament!
Still, this won’t stop us from providing you, our Dear Readers, with a safe haven for your collaborative efforts. “Collaborative efforts?” we hear you say. “What collaborative efforts? And to what purpose?” Well, let us fill you in…
1) We provide the first line of a poem. 2) You write the next line. 3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post. 4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem. 5) We publish the first and second lines in a follow-up post. 6) Steps 2-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!
See? It’s the very definition of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! So, have fun! But, please, whatever you do, don’t fling us in dat dere briar patch! We can handle pretty much anything but not rejection!