Phinal Phantasy XII
I’m on strike. There’ll be no more nagging and no more chores.
We shall gather in the incessant clamour of your apparently homeless friends and watch dish piles give birth to new forms of life, and the socks you’ve been wearing for the past two weeks stand on their own two feet. And we’ll praise the glory of nature.
We’ll let dust form into marauding herds and make plans to overtake the nation. We’ll draw them maps of the city on the walls, and call that hole in your trousers a proud window on your underpants. I’m on strike.
We shall revel in the pungent odour emanating from your rooms, the bathroom become a Nostradamus prophecy made manifest. Gas masks will be de rigueur. O, oui.
I command you eat chips, drink pop, watch an x-rated slasher movie, call your friend in Japan, go to bed at 4 and whatever quagmire it was you fell into on your way back home my darlings, come what may, please don’t bathe. For I am on strike.
· · • · ·
- Testing.
— Dean Dec 27, 2:17pm #
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