as decided by ME:)
.........
The Lizard
Wizard is Here
Mildred Rockingbomb woke up on July the
22nd , 2012, unexplainably determined that there was a meeting in
Alabama she had to attend that evening. She knew it, she could feel it – and
took to preparing herself immediately. In the bathroom, she set her hair, which
had just been dyed bright red, into a billow of tight ringlets, and drew her
eyebrows on. “The orange suit..the orange suit…” the voices in her head were
telling her (for Mildred could hear six distinct voices in her head on most
occasions, four of which spoke English, one Farsi, and the other Gonja), so she
buttoned into her orange suit with the rhinestone parrot design on the back.
The parrot was a signal, a sign to others that she was one of them. She looked
in the mirror, making sure that she had covered up the lizard tattoo on her
right shoulder. It was a green lizard with red eyes, staring ardently and
sneakily out from under her skin, like it had a secret and knew all of our
secrets. She was sure – undoubtedly sure – that the lizard tattoo moved around
her shoulder on its own, for she had a picture proving that it was indeed 3/8ths
of an inch further to the left when she first had the needle jammed into
her flesh. The mirror reflected one of the many images of her, this one a tall,
slender female figure with illuminated skin and eyes, inhuman in color. She
stared longer, for she had never seen this reflection of herself before, and
moved closer to the mirror, reaching out to touch it. As she did, scale-like bumps
surfaced on her arms and face, and her eyes grew. Suddenly, the image jumped
out of the mirror with an odd scream and on to her – knocking her to the ground
in a confused panic. Mildred opened her eyes, frightened and dumbfounded by
what had just occurred in her bedroom; the mirror was shattered into a million
tiny malicious shards, and a voice in her head told her not to clean the glass
up, it would be useful later. She shrugged it off (Mildred never got too
excited or too scared; to her, things just happened) and went downstairs to put
some toast in the toaster oven for breakfast.
It was a morning ritual of hers: one
slice of rye with ketchup and cayenne, and one slice of wheat with honey and
garlic. “Keeps the chiggers away!” she attested in a nervous blurt to anyone
who questioned her odd dietary habits, for she hates anything that gets under
her skin. She brewed coffee and poured it into a large bowl filled with
cinnamon and heavy whipping cream, and sipped delicately on it as she went to
feed the large eels she kept in a two-hundred gallon salt-water fish tank in
her guest bedroom. The threw several medium-sized crabs in the tank, grabbing
each with her bare hands, and watched the eels as they pierced the crab shells
with their sharp teeth. “Beautiful…” she thought. Or was that merely a voice in
her head? Regardless, she loved her eels and had for many, many moons. She even
tried to take them into town with her, but transporting a large tank of eels
was not an easy task, even though she was more than willing to pull a cart with
the tank on it behind her. Ultimately, the general public does not take kindly
to pet eels, or the people who own them. “Ding!” echoed from the kitchen,
signaling that her breakfast was ready. She meandered towards the toaster oven,
opened it, and removed her toast. But as she was closing the door to the over, it
began to levitate. Her hand still on the handle, the oven was suddenly floating
above the counter. She backed away, dropping her chigger repellent on the
counter, eyes open wide. A prerecorded message began to play out of the toaster
oven in a falsetto voice: “In approximately twenty-three minutes, Feather
Meteor, Lizard Wizard of the Fnordian Alien Indian Tribe, will be here paying
you a visit, so please prepare accordingly. Feather does not take kindly to any
sort of berry, and needs the room her teleports into to smell like Canadian
pines. You will perform any action he asks of you.” and then the message
suddenly stopped, and the toaster oven fell back onto the counter. Mildred was
not shaken by the message, and she felt strangely familiar with what was about
to take place. She knew her life was never going to be the same after the
Lizard Wizard’s visit.
When twenty-three minutes had past,
she began to panic. It felt like she’d been waiting for ages for the Lizard
Wizard to arrive. Disposing off all the berries had only taken about seven
minutes (she only had one container of blueberries and just decided to eat them
all). She had also cut down a pine tree in her backyard and dragged in into the
house to assure that each room would smell like pine, although it was not
Canadian pine. Hopefully the Lizard Wizard would not be able to tell the
difference, since he was from space and had never been to Canada. She taped her
long cerulean blue fingernails on the marble countertops in impatience and
hummed a song she had never heard before in a voice she had never spoken in
before. So that was a little unsettling. When she was absolutely about to burst
with anxiety, she heard a loud crash in the guest bedroom, and was certain it
was either her brain finally exploding or her eels having enough of each other
and escaping. She ran down the long, dark hallway to the bedroom, and stopped –
froze – in the doorway. There he was, Feather Meteor, Lizard Wizard King. He
was about eight feet tall, bright green, piercing red eyes, and a purple robe
with planets and stars on it. He had a long grey and white beard, and was
wearing Birkenstocks covered in glitter. Feather was distinctly radiant and
smiling warmly, emitting lightwaves from his aura for all to ride. After what
felt like 12 minutes of intense eye contact, he finally spoke in a soft voice.
“How are you this morning, Mildred?”
“I’m
feeling a little awk-”
“I
don’t want to be short with you; I’d love to sit and had a long conversation,
but right now is not the time. Listen, they are coming. They will be here in
forty-seven minutes. Where is the trampoline? Didn’t you get the toaster oven
message? Why is there a pine tree in the eel room? Eels feel distressed around
pine trees. Didn’t you read The Eight
Shakra of the Adranda Indians: Life as it Pertains to Multiterrestrial Vibe
Interactions? Well, there’s nothing you can do about that now, but please
try to remove the tree so the eels can smile again. Anyways, the Alien Indians
will need to land their spaceship in your yard, so if you could please mow the
grass down that would be wonderful and I would greatly appreciate it and bless
you with six Jewels of the Bavarian Illuminati so when the Great Awakening
happens you will be safe. Our Popes will be informed of your kind service and
send their gratitude your way. Does this sound like a reasonable assignment?”
Mildred stared blankly. She couldn’t believe that this was happening; she’d
been ardently living by the Discordian society’s Living for a Discordian Star Beam for years and knew she was a
chosen one – she could feel it in her bones – and now it was finally happening.
She didn’t answer Feather, just nodded and ran outside to the barn (where she
grew lily pads in an Olympic sized swimming pool) and brushed all the frogs off
her riding lawnmower. She turned it on and backed out. “Bye, Mildred!” a frog
on her lap said to her, and she took the frog in her hand and tucked into her
chest pocket.
Back and forth, back and forth, she cut the
grass and stared sternly ahead. Her right shoulder began to burn intensely, and
she almost fell off the lawnmower and down the hill it hurt do badly. The pain
subsided, and she looked in one of the windows of her house. Feather was
hanging by his tail from the ceiling meditating, but opened his eyes as soon as
she looked at him. She turned the mower quickly around the side of the house so
he would not see her, but she was sure he was still staring slyly at her.
Suddenly, everything went quiet. The lawnmower shut off, no cars drove by, no
birds chirping or crickets singing. She felt light. Everything turned neon and
spotted, like she was wearing the brightest 3D glasses. She got off the mower
and looked at the sun. It was glowing bright green and pulsating, and the
clouds around it were swirling kaleidoscopes of water vapor. And out of the sun
came the space ship. It rocketed forth so quickly she was blown back by the
pressure change its flight created in the atmosphere. Suddenly, it was hovering
above her, and landed in the newly mown grass. Feather exited the house, but in
the bright 3D color everything was projecting, she could only see his eyes and
the parrot tattoo on his shoulder. His aura felt excited, and he exclaimed “They’re
here! Oh wonderful this is perfect timing, I just reached a new level of
enlightenment while I was practicing my morning meditation and I have to tell
the Fnordian’s immediately, for it could be the answer to the question I
chapter six of their metacognition literature! By the way, get ready for the
journey ahead of you, for it will be metaphysically demanding but spiritually
enlightening.” And he floated off to the blue orb that was floating in her
yard. Mildred collapsed under the weight of possibility before her, and stared
into the sky. With each passing second she became more a part of the universe
and the universe became more a part of her, and she was absorbed into the sky
and for a moment was at peace.
IT'S REAL. and now my poem
...........
Honey
Tastes
like a flower freshly
blossomed and still covered
in
morning dew that reflects the days dazzling joylike a sun rise over a field, a blessing
of newly cut grass
like a lazy Saturday afternoon in late spring,
contently laying on a hillside absorbing the sunlight
like warm summer mornings praising you overflowing
endless rivers of euphoria – just dive in
like laughter bursting from children as they leap
through sprinklers during the hazy summer days
like slow motion fireworks, viscous volcanoes,
mudslides of mercy – these are good things, why rush them?
like Rosh Hashanah, when we recite our Parsha
and pray for our next merciful year to be a humble one
like a single amber orange autumnal leaf floating
as the crisp wind lifts it off the tree and brushes it across your face
like a headcold lifting – treated best with a mug full
of warm ginger tea and a tablespoon of grace
like rainy weekends wrapped together in blankets
next to a woodstove, when all we do is idly smile at each other
like that smile – you know that smile – on your lovers face
a benediction that everything will be infinitely perfect
amen.
