ALL THE GOOD PARTS OF A LACK OF SLEEP-INDUCED CAFFEINE HIGH
I was walking through the fields of green, when behold... the king of the frog people came to me and giveth to me the magic mushroom. I eat of the magic mushroom, and the radioactive fallout confused me. Upon seeing the frog king turn into Elvis, I became frustrated and ran him over with a lawnmower. And behold! There stood my parents. And believing them to be tall giraffes, armed and dangerous, I attacked them with my gerbil.
This was a dream I had, I think. Upon waking up, I realized that reality sucks because the first thing my eyes settle on are the entities which used to be my fish. They hate me, looking at me with their modular eyes, chewing their way through the glass. One day I'll have to kill them all! But first, I must let my friend begin his narrative of this pointless four AM existence of ours.
I am going to kill everyone. This is my dream. But first, I must name my blade. My friend, his axe is named Grond. This is a noble name, and I highly respect Grond. He is very shiny sometimes (when he is not covered with blood) and he is my friend. My blade requires such a name as well. I think... I shall name him Consuelaz. Consuelaz is the name of my former Mexican maid, who ran away in a fit of insanity. Because the maid and my machete are both Mexican and very insane, I think this is a fitting name. I will kill everyone in the world with Consuelaz to help me, and perhaps my friends Doctor Strange and Grond will help me accomplish such a task. I will knock on your front door, and when you open the door to see who it is, I will run you through! And if that doesn't work, Grond will split your skull. You will be very dead, and I will choose you randomly, for no apparant reason. And this is how I will kill everyone in the whole world. Thank you.
The potato people have just informed me that Coyote's plan meets their approval and will be carried out as soon as we have enough french fries. Because you see, the potato people are cannibals. They slice up their own kind, and eat them. But enough of this. I might as well tell you why we intend to kill you all, so that you won't waste our precious time in asking us when we come to dismember you. The reason is this: We hate people. People are scum. Stupid people shouldn't breathe. In fact, all people shouldn't breathe. Humans have a serious psychological defect that makes them believe they are more intelligent than amoebas. This is very silly thinking. Just because you have a backbone doesn't mean you are ANY better than anyone else. Now although killing five billion people may take us a little while, we have time because we have absolutely nothing better to do. So there.
Now. Like my colleague was saying, we hate people. All two of us. Or four of us, if you want to consider our friends Grond and Consuelaz, or even five of us, if you'd like to include "Jack". "Jack" is our ghost. We've never seen him, we've never talked with him, we have no proof whatsoever that he exists, but we believe in him anyway. He is our friend. How would you feel if all your friends stopped believing in your existence? You'd probably want to kill them all. Which is exactly what we are planning to do. But anyway, we hate people, we three humans are the most antisocial beings on the face of this earth, and we will stop at nothing to wipe out the entire human race.
We are Doctor Strange and Coyote. At any rate. The llamas are coming! The llamas are coming! Head for the hills! Not even Consuelaz can save us now!
Plastic. This whole world is turning into a huge crinkling ball of plastic. You see, the entire world is actually a big chip bag. And if you dig deep enough, you eventually get to the potato chip core. This is known as the potato kingdom, tasty. Crunchy. Aren't these lady fingers wonderful? The llamas are becoming odd shades of magenta.... Magenta! The potato people are mounting the magenta beasts of glory, and riding off into the setting sun, which is actually a giant orange peel, rotting in the gutter of my soul. In a few thousand years, all of the sun's power will be cut off because the earth forgot to pay for it's interstellar utilities bill. And then, we will be sunless, and have to rely on those neat little neon sticks that you bend and they glow, but that's okay, because you never really see those things enough, and you'll all be dead anyway. Because we are going to kill you all.
Fly high, llamas! Spread thy wings in all thy magnificent delusion! Make thy place amongst the heavens, and lay thy eggs with a surity of being. But llamas, return! Do not forsake us, because we depend on you as a major source of food and income. And llamas, please give us back our midgets. I had a pet lemming once. I loved that little lemming. I even built him a little wall that he could hurl himself from. He would just run around and around and around in circles in joy.... And he always ran into the wall instead of off of it. He never quite got the concept that he had to leap instead of hurl. He was a rather stupid lemming. I took pity on him, and every once in a while, I would place him on top of the wall and nudge him until he would fling himself like all the other normal lemmings.
Acorns I like. I lie awake at night, visualizing acorns floating in front of my face. And they stare back at me, with those cute little button noses of theirs, they look at me wondering why I like to eat them so. I don't really enjoy eating them; it's just something I do. I don't really know why... I guess maybe it's genetic. Or maybe I just like doing it. Or maybe not. I don't really know what I'm talking about. I think acorns are very nutritious. Or poisonous, I could be wrong. Doesn't matter, you'll all be dead soon anyway.
Isn't blacktop a wonderful invention? You can fry eggs on it, drive on it, smear people on it, and generally just look at it. I think blacktop is a key invention in the twentieth century. Think of what our lives would be without blacktop (although it doesn't really matter, since you all will soon be one with the blacktop anyway...). Sometimes I dream. I dream that Salvador Dali approaches me and asks me about the radishes. And I tell him, "I know nothing of radishes!" And he looks at me in a funny way, and then he says, "You know! Those radishes! The ones that soar with the armadillos!" And then I say, "Oh, those radishes! I was going to smoke them, but then the administration for substance abuse began to advocate it, so I changed my mind." And then Salvador Dali just walks away and runs into a wall at 32.8 meters per hour. And then I wake up screaming in terror, because I realize that the armadillos are out to get me. And that is really the reason why we are killing you.
I wish to be institutionalized at Chernobyl, because I here they have a really great remedial marmoset weaving class. All my life since I was a child I have yearned to weave small weaselly rodents. Call it a quirk. So when the men come knocking on my door with the nice jacket that let's me hug myself, I will appeal to them to send me to Chernobyl. They'll know that's my place in this world.
5:30 am... Almost time to retune my head... It's really fun retuning my head. All those brain cells, so little time. Sometimes, I think that I am a fish. Fish are nice people. So that's why I eat them raw. Cooking is cruel. AAAAAACK!!! The potato people are coming! No, it's the llamas! They are changing color! They are wearing hats of great majesty! I bow donw to them and call them wet! This can only mean the uprising of the woolly ones.
One day I will acheive my branch to fishkill. You can ask me what this means. Perhaps I will even tell you my little secret. But not today, or the wild geese will tear me limb from limb. This is something that I do not relish at all. But maybe one day I will! My branch to fishkill means I will become one with the flounder. Flounder are interesting, because they have three sides. One side is blue, so they are camoflaged against the sky from below, one side is gravelly grey, so they are camoflaged against the sea bed from overhead predators, and one side of brilliant pink swirled with a subtle decorative inlay of metallic green, so that they will not be eaten by invaders from the other dimension. Flounder are the most naturally established fish when it comes to the other dimension, because they live their lives in constant fear of the branch to fishkill. This is not even making any sense to me anymore. Time to move on.
Do you smell bacon? I love bacon! It makes me feel young again! I will eat nickel-plated cadmium batteries until the great woolly ones return. Thirty thousand camels, thirty thousand llamas, and thirty thousand sheep, all gathered together to witness the dawning of Aquarius. This is a great day for omnivores, my friend, I tell you this! Oh, and the dolphins say hi. However, the woolly ones have missed one crucial, vital point. There is a blob the size of New Mexico drifting towards them, and they are gone. This is symbolic for the blob represents all of humanity, trapped inside of a little tiny glass jar. And since we are going to kill all of humanity anyway, it doesn't really matter. And the woolly ones, they thank us, and give us five sacred laws. These laws are :
1) Kill all of humanity. Kill them with Grond and Consuelaz. Rejoice.
2) Drink fingas. (We have yet to determine what a finga is.)
3) Ingest cantaloupes, through your favorite orifice.
4) Pencils are for impaling, not eating.
5) Never take any wooden nickels. (We don't get this one either.)
We have broken all of these laws in succession, and we are sorrowful. Therefore, tomorrow we shall begin to lay seige to the world. You will all die. Good night, and sleep well.
- Coyote and Doctor Strange