Funny Little Tragedy
by Gov’t Mule
All manner of hell erupted in that desolate city in the high
desert valley, I tell you.
We had them punks up in the north/eastern desert scrape, and
they were dealing with a ghost cowboy and an angry demon. The punks wanted to head for home, and that
ole cowboy was about to say this to them: “We gonna go dig up some old bones.”
That would fuck up everyone’s day.
There were them hungry cannibals is the south part of the
city (known also as the anus of the desert) and one of them had opened a gate
to Hell. He done this from eating his own
flesh. Them damned immortal Walk-Ins now
found a new contagion and it was called Legion.
The last meeting of them Purple Robes changed venues for
security purposes, and once there, they would declare war on the invaders, whom
they thought were being led by Emeralda.
A three way power play in that Lilac
Mansion
The Chairman, the Chauffeur, and the original Cannibal faced
each other, hiding behind their own respective facades. They hid greed of power, anguish of permanent loss, and
hunger for human flesh.
Now let’s hitch a ride with Emeralda, as she escaped from
the Lilac Mansion
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Hidden churches, strewn and cast like dice across the ugly
face of Fuckno, offered glimpses of hope and harbor for her. But she knew better. Emeralda understood what it was to be
banished, to be an outcast; this from her own volition.
She sought escape from this hellhole with her three little girls. She would take them to safety.
She brushed the pebbles of broken glass off of the pink
blanket that covered her baby girl, and looked back up in time to swerve. She avoided a bloody woman in the middle of
the street. She knew enough to never
brake and turn the wheel at the same time.
You can ask the rubber tires to perform one act at a time at high
speed. More than that and you will lose control. These were the teachings from her supposed protectors. She had learned form them, and also from her upbringing in the old country.
Her protectors were now her enemies, once they
discovered that she had busted out of the rear wall of the massive estate.
She had breached the wall of protection.
She did not need to lose control now.
She regained full control and checked her little mirror on
the windshield. It was clear, her
reversed view thought the rear window.
Yes, it was because the rear window was all smashed out. She caught the image of the bloody woman in
the middle of the street, and that woman whipped her head back in what looked
like a moment of ecstasy.
The blood came from what she was eating. She was eating an animal.
Emeralda did not know that it was not an animal per se, but
instead, a person.
That would have caused her to lose the remaining grasp of
control, as if her fingertips held onto the sharp edge of a rooftop, several
hundred floors above the street below.
It would be a long dive, headlong, into insanity, if she
knew about the woman.
She raced the vehicle’s heavy engine and sped off toward the
home where her other two daughters had spent the night.
Do ya ken, it was her refusal to believe what she had just witnessed
that helped her to continue forth and not give up all hope.
THEM
DAMNED
PUNKS
I looked down at the face of the punk rocker with the strange
purple hair and he grinned back up at me.
Yes, it was true, Katheena had come back from the dead, and
he knew it.
He waited for me to say something, before he would grab me
out of the vehicle to kill me.
I shook my head and said, “It’s best if you step back from
the vehicle sir. This will end badly for
you if you don’t.”
Fat Jerry laughed and swung his meaty melon back from the edge
of the vehicle, and he punched the door.
He fucking dented it.
That was when the ghost cowboy Glinty kicked that pink haired
punk in the kidneys.
He was kinda pissed off.
He was shouting and all.
“GET YOUR DAMNED HANDS OF THE INJUN!”
Well, wouldn’t ya know, that made the giant freeze in his
tracks.
Control (Midnight Mix)
by Broken Bells
