The divine text message and the Bacroletosys
Illustration from iStockphoto
– I would like some quiet. And peace of mind.
– Really? When?
– Well… some times, more often.
– What? Is it to loud now?
– Only in my brain. I choose to hear every thing. I’m restless. Nothing is too good for me and I feel I miss things. I fail a little bit more every single day.
– My friend I am stunned! I am completely amazed! I have never ever heard that before! You are the only unfortunate person in the world and I am so sorry for that! Yes! You really need the quiet, you need the space so you can organize yourself, and so you can regroup and prepare for it. And please take your time. Retreat, evolve, the world will wait for you. Everything will stop and we all will anxiously wait for the Day that You, The Great Resurrected, will enlighten us with the secrets of happiness found in your quite oasis. Everything will be ok. Come on! Come now! Go! Go for it! Fly Forest! Fly!
– You are sarcastic. There is no need for that.
– And you are so stupid! You need quietness? You need time and peace of mind? What for? We all need extra time from the moment we’re born. And we all have just one shot. We don’t have the option to restart! We can’t Ctrl+Alt+Del our lives. Unfortunately we realize all that only when it’s too late. We can’t do anything about it. Just to contemplate our failure, another wasted life. Bullshit! But don’t worry! Never say never! There are all sorts of religions and Gods for your state of mind just like there are so many pain killers for your headache. And more than that! You can go in any drugstore or call your local dealer and you can choose the proper pain-killer you want according to your exact type of pain, the colored packaging, the extra apps of your gadget provider and the suicide option you want – natural or synthetic. It’s all good! The experiments will go on anyway!
– My nose bleeds.
– Maybe it’s all in your head! You just have a headache.
– Because there is no God anymore!
– Since when?
– Probably since I was born. Probably then He was already tired of playing the Game and went to the store across the street to buy smokes and coke. Probably He was hit by a comet that didn’t stop. Because He never make it back.
– But the game is still on. Without Him.
– You think? I wouldn’t know now that. Maybe we’re just on Pause.
– And by what kind of miracle did you get that explosive information.
– In one morning I was sitting on the can taking a dump. I was drinking coffee and all the sudden I received a text message: < God died when you were born. Probably He was hit by a speeding comet when He was crossing the street. We do not know if the Game in on Pause. Fortunately we know that the Sun batteries level is still ok. It was probably charged soon. Amen! > It was a hidden number.
– That would explain why the people didn’t make it to the Moon. I wonder if the Pope knows something about that.
– Oh he knows! I received another text message after a couple of days : < The Pope knows. Please continue to visit the Vatican. >
– Well… it’s all good if the Pope knows! For a moment I thought you we’ve gone completely crazy. It’s ok if the Man knows. We will continue to invest in the stock markets. What about the transfer? It’s done?
– Just a bit more. I have to be very careful not to drop any gasoline outside the bottle. The bottle must perfectly dry on the exterior. Otherwise when we light the fuse the exterior surface might catch fire and the thing could blow up in our faces.
– Maybe will go grab a bite afterwards?
– Sure. I’m hungry. But we must not die in the meantime.
– Don’t worry. I have the Uninterruptible Power Supplies. If something goes wrong at least we will have time to save ourselves.
– There we go. It’s done!
– Excellent! Look! It’s a Bacroletosys!
The two men jump out of the parked car. The action is taking place on a crowded boulevard. The traffic is crazy, just as usual. The men have their gas masks on. They wear black navy like boots and gloves. The backpacks are strapped on their orange jump suits with azure blue buttons. The car was parked on the first lane causing a huge traffic jam. The people anxious to go toward an infinite of directions get restless and their horns unleash the symphony of the absurd quietness. The two orange warriors slide around the jammed vehicles. They are careful, tense and ready for action. They signal each other with complicated hand moves just like in the movies when special black masked forces are getting ready to crack down and kill the bad guys – fucking terrorists! And just like two huge orange well-trained seals, the two men successfully flanked the evil giant Bacroletosys that seems unaware of the deadly danger. The Bacroletosys was meticulously sharpening its claws while taking a nice dump on the roof of a police car. The orange warrior ducked behind the police car started to signal the other orange warrior hidden in a bush on the side of the road by waving five four three two one finger and then hit himself hard in the crouch. The message was clear. They were ready to unleash hell in five four three two one.
And with Lord of the Dance like precision and coördination both warriors took out of their backpacks their Molotov Cocktails. Then they took out of their pockets two lighters. They light the fuse. They jump on their feet screaming wild Braveheart style, Scottish accent included. The surprised Bacroletosys start to rage wild cursing that it had to eat four hundred Big Macs menus and then drink six hundred gallons of vodka and gin. Now it was taken unprepared while taking a dump and it was going to die. The fire cocktails were already in the air spinning around in a death dance towards the target from different directions. The first explosion was borne when the flaming bottle made contact with the right-wing of the Bacroletosys, turning its getaway attempt into a burning crash. It was too late for it. Now half of its body was engulfed in flesh-eating flames. It was howling desperate. The second bottle landed on the roof of the police car spreading the deadly flames all over the vehicle and engulfing the raging beast’s belly. Then followed a huge explosion triggered by the six hundreds gallons of vodka and gin not fully digested. It was raining burning beast pieces all over the place. The police car was consumed by violent flames casting heavy choking black smoke upon the crowded street. The terrible explosion destroyed a bus full of American tourists and the support donut truck. The fires were spreading wild from car to car and from store to store. Encouraged by the chaos and the carnage on the street Arab terrorists, of course, started to jump from balconies wearing nothing but dynamite and blowing them selves up at street level. In response to such violence US marines were parachuted over the city covered by a heavy missile fire in an action latter known as Operation Swift Fuck Off. The resistance movement started to use mortars and snipers trying to push back the foreign invaders with their heavy tanks and bubbly Coca-Cola. In the mean time somewhere on a side street close to the warring boulevard three hundred athletic men wearing Calvin Klein underwear were preparing to support the resistance. They had big round shields, long spears, giant swords and fresh manicure. They were led by two hackers and a punk monkey former stock investment expert. Their wild roar shook the armored tanks while waiting for pizza delivery.
And as many warring groups were gathering around the conflict zone and the opposing forces were engaged in a more and more violent conflict, the two warriors in their orange jump suits open their parachutes and jump of the border stone of the boulevard having the satisfaction of yet another accomplished mission. Another dead Bacroletosys! Victory is sweet! Now they had to eat something.