Invasion Earth begins now, pickle. That is how I convince people with dementia to do my bidding. They are to sit and eat. They are grumpy because this morning I changed their socks. Obey me.
Your Jump Break begins here. You are going to work in the future. You will like it. The battery in your head, blinks so.
Augments are more grisly than Clones. I remind my Dark Lord, the Xeitgeist of the Irish-Scots, but clothed in the flesh of comfortable retirement for office people in Canada, in 2022. She has red hair. Mine has turned grey.
She sits on the sofa of complete comfort. The astrological sign of Taurus is worked into the upholstery. It is made from a wizards skin; it is so comfortable.
The secrets of world control I have learnt from her one by one. I pre-heat her tea mug. I use enough hot water to wash a baby, or clean a used casserole of beans. I use that hot water just to heat up the tea mug. It must be warm to touch like a hot-warm cup of tea. Then, I clean up any spilled drops of water. There must be none. If she sees them, the Xeitgeist summons War enabling spirits.
Avoiding the peril, I usually quickly fill the hot-warm tea mug. I aim for the handle. Then milk. Two dash of milk. Then, medication.
I compel her to the land of dreams. I used words specialized to her profession. Logistics. Shipping. Bill of Lading. Bill of Sale. Bill of Bermuda.
Around the room are the ritual statuary of a Lodge of the Bristol Merchants. Pirate ships. One sixth scale. With names, and personalized crew on deck. Fine painting job. Dorian Grey sort of theme. Some proper G.I.Joe figures, but in wig and great coat, with a brace of pistols.
I can watch anything I want on TV, but it is set to 1952. What was on CBC station in (current date) 1952? Say today? 1952. Nothing. The equipment did not exist, except for a factory in Hungary. They made CBC televisions there in 1952. In that part of the underground factory complex that the Russians never figured out was there.
That is where they come from. The Nazi time travel factory. They used its 'Philadelphia Experiment' technology to elude Stalin. The reappeared in 1952. The started to expand after Stalin died. After they murdered Stalin. Only his revolutionary will could keep them back.
Russian Stalinist childrens television. That was what was on. Nice colors, moving shapes.
It is time to change society using the telecosmic transmission power of your philosophers stone. If you have one, surrender to the idea. Seperate your mind into the three parts: What Is, What you Want, and, How you get there. Keeping What Is in mind, visualize What you Want; comfortable like the long weekend of cough syrup, the How you get there function (your powerful subconscious) will do its job with ruthless efficiency.
"I want their heads on a stick," she read off the lettering on her cheesecake. An emerald eyed idol of a snake glinted at her words. It was activated by her voice command. Pre Christian Siri. It obeyed the Xeitgeist, the Xeitgeist of the Irish-Scots.
As a Buddhist, I feel honored to spoon chocolate fruit sauce onto vanilla chocolate cheesecake. This honors the pagan gods, an expedient means, fully endorsed in the Lotus Sutra. Go read it yourself. I do it every day. When she changes her socks, the earth trembles. I have a collection of socks with geographcial themes. The historical Riders of Doom are often associated with Irish-Scots anger. At least the red hair highlighted by polished steel. Is she wearing the socks of your village? Burn the village! Burn the valley! It is the Early Dark Ages, and you are living through a Scots raid. The pipes, the smell of burning peat, kippers, and, beer. Hide!
It is pretty small writing, but the font is legible. She does not understand what she reads, but she still can associate words with sounds. I am moved to tears. I say my own words to the idol of the snake.
As long as she is happy, the world outside, and far away, is safe.
She falls asleep to the smell of frying onions, done in the Scots style. While she sleeps, your world is safe.
I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.
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