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A Pink Skunk and His Lord, Chapter 36 |
| Written by Esoid Elvoniche | |
| Wednesday, 18 June 2008 | |
A pink striped skunk peers through binoculars atop a watch tower where the oxygen is as thin as a razor’s blade. The ocean is illuminated with a wavery blue shine from the glossy moon—the stars act like fireflies and glint in and out of existence, dancing and laughing around the smiling moon. The skunk’s head starts to spin like a child's top, wavering on the edge of concienciousness and oblivion, long forgetful of the old, wooden ghost ship that drifts along with no concern of destination. According to the ships ledger, the skunk and his crew have been sailing nowhere and everywhere and back for some 300 odd years, odd, weird years they were indeed. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The skunk was already on his eighth color cycle, and soon to be ninth. He was sick of it. He’d seen everything and anything a living thing could want to see, do everything and anything anything would want to do. The skunk had once seen a mermaid fight with a shark-lobster in a magneffscient spectacle of exploding light, blood, and boobs in an underwater city made of dead bodies, with old dead thrown-out hookers making up the base. Now, hundreds of years later, the skunk was sick of life and everything it had to offer. He couldn’t for the life of him even remember how he ended up on the ship in the first place. Something to do with a bar bet and a transvestite boxer/sailer, the details were hazy. If it was up to Mr. Skunk, he would have ended it long ago… but it wasn't’t. The skunk was a born again Christian and new it was up to God to decide when it was time. The skunk just wished sometimes he’d hurry the hell up. “I just know everything will be alright in the end,” the skunk would say after prayer. “Fate teases me with its bliss—that short infinite, innocent second of light at the end of the tunnel—its there, I just know it! IM READY LORD! TAKE ME NOW! IM READY!” he would scream with his front legs stretched up into the sky, but would only be met with unsure stares from his shipmates. The skunk never liked his crew and their sketchy stares, especially when he was trying to talk with the Lord. Or when he tried to make love with the cracks in the ship’s rickety planks. No, he didn’t like them at all. That’s why a few odd years back the skunk hacked the entire crew into tiny pieces, which was then made into a nice bitter but sweet bullion soup. The skunks new crew now comprises of a fork, a rotting fish, and a piece of wood named Dan. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The skunk gazed lazily up into the sky's eternity—waiting for that magic moment to hit his memorized mind and blow him far away from his shackled carcass; when everything just suddenly clicks—into place—showing its true self: pure untainted enlightenment. The skunk rubbed his eyes and decided to climb down and find something to ****. To be ******* continued… Copyright 2008 Esoid Elvoniche |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 18 June 2008 ) |
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