The Psychotic Episodes: ..... All Rights Reserved.

#13 Schism and Blues

#13: Hell minus the circles:
                         Schizm and Blues.

There's no avoiding that pitfall, that bush there burns for a reason, you'd better get it before it's gone! What's that you say you like the trees better than the bushes? What is the matter with you! We shall burn you at the stake, trees better than bushes, indeed!

Hysteria has come and gone, it's fashions,  born, blossomed, matured, withered, fallen and decayed, there were no more fires, to put out, only ones to start, the old decadence had failed us, oh well, my pitchfork awaits, I wonder the gossip among the horn and hoof shiners about my incessant rule here toady,
toady the imp, was a regular at the hostel of incineration, originally started by those, twenty seven other members, and hed always imagined he was one of them, but as he was after all, over nine hundred years old at his first passing, he could never be, one of them, he simply waited too long, just past the first quarter century, I wonder who thought up THAT rule? He grumbled to himself, nobody had told him but between the fates and the sirens, there had been a pact, never to reveal, certain things, about which even God would zap inquisitors, right back into hell. And the club, of the twenty seven, those guys knew something, and managed to transmute the languages to and from the soundtracks, don't ask me much more on that, it still hurts for me, to have even glimpsed those raptures and had to come back through the gates, or the portal or whatever it was, dear I'm having a migraine, can you please astonish it away for me? Strike me dumb with your looks or something, or find me some Marijuana, please hurry. No I don't want a beer I want a joint! get it here! Light it, blow it in my face, now tickle my feet, another cloud please, blow it up my nose this time, see if you can get me to fart the smoke out this time, what're you looking at! Do it!
And get me some gummies and brownies as well…
Toady the imp, looked on at the new master and his acquaintance the succubus, there on the sofa, as overcooked as a roast on a spit above a napalm barbecue, rolled his eyes and went about the procurement, of the gummies,