"bruiseplasma animation?" leighanna wondered aloud as she went into the women's restroom to get a camera. and she returned carrying a grey and black case, RCA on side (silver), my lucky colours, you know. and she ran through instructions on use - operations manual from the text - basic memorisation. so, we thanked her, and shook hands. back to the bruiseplasma train. underground. subterranean. telescopic? there we accelerated, going quickly through the arteries of the paved dermic city streets. not missing a beat, now. --- we were speeding along hitting everything - bam bambam yo, back on the train - clocktic picturetaking - and slowed down - playback - so we hit the catholic church, going inside with our video - asked for an educated priest. and we got a father feltcher, a happy guy with round rosy cheeks and smooth skin - no facial hair. very, well, sexless human - homo sapiens in every meaning of the word. but, it's sapiens to be homo. we showed him the video, why did he have a vcr in his private office? he watched it, and said, "reminds me of a song. are you sleeping are you sleeping brother jim, brother jim. morningbells are ringing morningbells are ringing. din din don. din din don." --- "frere jacques?" lisa asked. --- "yeah, i .. i couldn't tell you anything else. i've always thought the song originally said mourning, as in grief, instead of morning as in early hours. possibly brother jim has died.. dark comedy satire out of the mouths of babes." --- "boris the bear," i muttered - more aloud than i'd wanted --- "what?" lisa asked. --- "o, i was just thinking about the call i'd received from dennis about 4 or 5 vaguely blurred days. he, well, nevermind -" --- so we thanked the kind father, for his information, or suggestion, and took back to the bruiseplasma flowing to our apartment - while on the train -
so a business species of godfish(dogfish?) proudly displaying the hammer penis pistol, emerging from his pants. and i saw the gun - european survived san francisco and los angelos, traveling across california -- avagadro's number - national mole day - shot, bang - i held the gun, explosion - that is to say, hermaphrodite becoming a plain aphrodite with a man's voice - father felcher singing songs about dead monks, and funereal bells - and bang, shut - 6:02pm, check watch, out of habit, run and hide, men in blue - nervebloodcorset, explosion drawing form all insides - definite end in human life, and i saw a gun, check the watch -
end of ride on bruiseplasma, we stopped with a jolt. lisa and i walked up to our apartment falling asleep with instant relief. so, proudly i awoke - well happy day.. for the thought came to me how we were making some progress. lisa was already up, again. but this time she was eating cornflakes. o so she said - "frere jacques, frere jacques..
