Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Year in Review, Part 2


Perched atop a desk chair, Legba sits, with good posture, in his office. His yellow eyes glow; his forked tongue flicks. His ashen face is weary; his red tie, loose. On a quest for evil, I walk through the thick, wooden door. There's fire in my eyes. It is quite warm here in the dry heat of Hell. Legba is sweaty from too many spicy Doritos. He walks to the corner and turns up the fan. It sputters and blows hot--the demon throws down his arms in disbelief (things here are upside-down) and undoes another shirt button. A bell rings and I wonder if it's Judgement. Legba picks up a phone and speaks gibberish in the voice of my whiny accountant.

Part 2: Spring

The winter seemed endless; I tried to cancel my lecture tour on account of laryngitis, but I was contractually obligated to continue. I lived on ginger tea, medicine, and crackers. I met a beautiful actress but could not speak. I discovered my potency is my voice.

From my pagan ancestors I have pale blue eyes, a faithless brain, a love of drunken revelry, and a hatred of consequence. I wear colourful clothes but have a savage soul. I butter my hair.

But since seeing Legba has no dignity, I have had conversion on my mind. Oh to embrace the mysteries of the Church while the idiots text message acronyms and Richard Dawkins is in vogue! I bet he has never licked a poisonous toad.

Eventually the snow began to melt and I got extremely drunk. I vowed to explore hell but with a posh sense of dignity. I tuned my roadsters to Radiohead's "Reckoner," a glass of absinthe in my hand.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

But I don't butter my hair.

- Artie