Thursday, January 22, 2009

The Intervenation of Micheal Johnson

I was doing time in the universal mind.
I was doing fine.
I was turning keys,
I was setting people free.
I was doing alright.
And then you came along,
With a suit case and a song,
Turned my head around.
Now I’m so alone,
Just looking for a home
In every face I see.
I’m the freedom man.
That’s how lucky I am.
-The Lizard King-

I woke up with a terrible taste in my mouth. I think I’ve fallen asleep with a joint tucked tight between my lips like wisdom whispered....I’m on the toilet? it became suddenly clear I had been up for a few days and my poor body gave out under the strain of madness. The clock on the wall reads 7 o’clock. am or pm? and why am I holding a half bottle of wild turkey and razor sharp combat knife(Spanish steel)?I couldn't tell you what drove terror through heart, not knowing where I was or how long I had been here? But just then a tune irrupted waking my nerves......"pleease allow me to introduce myself I’m a man of wealth and taste..........'' I explode, naked, off the toilet like an r.p.g. (rocket propelled grenade) I have to be ready to leave by 8 o’clock! Under an hour! When the intervention of Micheal Johnson kicks off........... The elephant army will take to the roads and fight to forget.
See the art of things is not a talent, trick or skill, if one looks back at the furthest reaches of art, it's as an entity has been an expression of personal growth through love, pain, guilt, ect......but one thing remains true, one MUST drag him/her self upon that trapezoid mistaken blade of life to honestly create a tangible scare......whether paintings or children, all the same! What art? There’s an art to anything (killers, mechanics, babysitters, low-lives......but what, my estranged everyday heroes, makes an artist? 20 mins till my lift drops in, and hope private parts and major jennirator are in driving condition....I start back throw the war room and into the house to fix another round, then a person appears out of the water closet....a young lady.....the bottle drops from her hands and foamishly shattering before she could scream...who is she?....why this reaction?..Then I realize that I’m still in my birthday suit.........
She must be one of the numerous people i offered a couch to last night. ''go ahead, crash here !'' the back yard must be filled with what, at first, would look like partied out hippies ,vets, cops,.........and Richard Millhouse Nixon.....for one night my generation ,the wasted youth, ... generation hang over got to live life as if they had no aids, no bad trips, no repercussions for there actions and with Vietnam in our minds Iraq, no Afghanistan, no north Korea ..........for one night we lived it, April 27th 1968........and we were safe ........this was my only birthday wish.....peace and understanding for the whole night........12-14 hours of acting as our parents did but knowing full well that the next day we’d have buck up and deal with the mess that we made.....yet the generation of the sixties and seventies never cleaned up. Never said ''sorry''..
Her scream was so loud it even woke the village of tenters in the back yard, not to mention the five or six slumbering souls right in front of me. The horror filled the air like a thick, and in this moment, transparent fog.
…….Nothing strikes terror into the heart of a person more then the sight of a naked man with a firearm….. For instance, the head line “A man held a group of nuns at gun point.” Isn’t so bad…It's rational, almost understandable, but throw the verb “nude’ in there and the stakes just got higher, but no one can fathom why one must be nude to brandish a hand grenade...How could this kind of misunderstanding happen? Why is this spotlight always reserved for me? Or those like me? Choice…… Free will, if you will, one has the choice to be what ever they feel they are, if no one gets hurt. Or do they, do I? This is pushing the fence a little, even for me; some one could get psychologically maimed, but the good doctor once said that the edge is out there and the only those who go over know where it is….. I found it!
“Well’ I said pulling the pistol from its holster with great awe of the on lookers and fired three shots out the nearest window “Time to go.” The shook of the situation glued their feet to the floor.
With not quiet a smile I bark “NOW!” That was the trigger friends, not the gun, no……. my wild smile. With in 15 seconds the room, let alone the house, was empty.
Now I can properly round up my supplies for this mission. Got to have the Chivas and Wild ale ginger turkey, the salvia, mushrooms, a body bag, ski goggles, tape recorder, hash, oil, an oz. of pot, compass, 7 apples, 12 cantaloupe, L.S.D., riddalin, codeine, 6 pens, 2 notebooks, some homemade opium, maps, 3 cases of Budweiser, 24 bear bangers, 28 feet of electrical wire, a 9 volt battery, ¾ of a lb of black powder and enough D.M.T. to get you to heaven.
I throw a pair of pants on in the nick of time, the major is here, and mad as hell.
“What the fuck is going on here?” she’s 6 mins early and heard the shots-saw the stampede-caught a ricochet in tire……Like I said mad as hell.
“Crowd control” I say with a smile.
“Stop being cute, those poor souls are probably calling the cops as we speak. I can’t afford this kind of bullshit.”
“Relax. It had to be done the fate of the mission depended on it. They were all traders any way.” I call off putting on my boots. “I had no choice.”
“No, you have to understand, your not working alone on this one.” she says holding her hips.
“Lets change that tire before the general, captain Benzo and private parts get here. Agreed?” she nods and we exit closing the light out of my basement suit.
Unfortunately the bullet lodged itself in the brake disk, rendering the golf city useless. So we formulated a plan to cover ourselves, legally, for what has happened and all that waits.
We dosed the car in gasoline, motor oil, toilet paper, old clothes, 2x4’s, paint, and everything illegal in the house, made a trail of equal parts gas, oil and sawdust. Good thing I live so close to Surrey the police will be looking for some meth-crazed rapist that showed up at the party last night. A naked lunatic with a gun not the 20 something that lives there for all that the people there last night knows we where taking off the next morning for “Victoria”, code for Kelowna.
Just as the trap is set the General pulls in, we load the car and the Major climbs in with a smirk on her face. I bend down, light the fuse and fall into the car laughing, “Go, go”……….Pulling on to River road a grand sexplostion. One for the books……it was history and took almost to Hope to explain.


“Put that out you freak!” the General calls back at me over the music.
“Why? I’ll take full responsibility for everything in this vehicle just as long as you say I kidnapped you guys and that I’ve been talking to myself the hole way….” I pause, “… and crying, tell’em I’ve been sobbing and sweating.”
“Fine, smoke your dope, just keep it down.” General Peabody is the rational, the reason of the Elephant Army, providing the best intelligence and mission planning in our line of work. Private parts is a hidden gem, willing to serve as transport on these dangerous trips to the other side of reality, the gritty trail of truth and mania. She is a very small figure like the Major, but not as loud. The only way to explain Major Jennirator is to pack as much c-4 and napalm into a tube about 5 feet tall, light it and run like hell. Besides the General, I’ve known our communications officer since it was only your narrator holding the Elephant Army flag. She a spy, the best of the best, her beauty and intelligence can get her almost anywhere.
“So, Benzo is meeting us where?” says the Major
“Elk Heart lodge.” Answers Peabody.
“He’s covering the soup cooking competition held there every year”
I take 4 T3s and wash it down with some beer and say" I love soup, it's easy to digest."
Then at the same time the entire car irrupts in laughter" Gable, are you even conscience?" the Major giggles.


“O.K., Sir. Your out of here!” a burly man in a smock said pulling my face out of a bowl of chicken minestronni soup. Coming to like this is an awakening I don’t even wish upon my mortal enemies, clowns, apes, dolls and this big middle classed redneck oaf. The codeine effect had been elevated by my blood-alcohol level forcing my limp soul to watch in terror being “handled” like this over grown toddlers’ security blanket, hugged, pulled and thrown about the room. The unholy bastard probably had it out for me the moment I walked in the joint, reeking of bourbon and dope, images of me putting a cigarette out on his teenaged daughter’s nipple while taking a shit-piss on his wife’s naked chest most likely made him pull me, violently mind you, from my soupy slumber. And out the door, head over heels, I left Elk Heart lodge and met the warm morning pavement, and loathed my ejector with every morsel of my being. I knew his paranoia; I’ve seen it many times before, the savage mind state of Mr. Everyone, all sexually despicable dreams of things he wants to do only he is afraid of the act. So afraid that the act becomes erotic and at this point he has given his ego my face, because lets face it, the human animal wants power… and nothing more.

1 comment:

col.gearzo said...