Up From the Hogshead

Gutbloom
Gutbloom
Aug 22, 2017 · 3 min read

[Emerges from the basement through the bulkhead. Belly distended, faculties largely in tact. Says to himself, ‘I never knew a hogshead could be so much fluid.’]

What’s this? Who summoned me? Terijo, Caleb Ramsby, KrisCross? Who dares to disrupt the days of wine and sauerkraut with which we celebrate the eclipse?

It’s true. I stared into the sun like Trump, but when I was struck blind by the diamond ring of the Helios’s crown, my third, fourth, and fifth eyes were opened.

With my third eye I noticed Caleb Ramsby’s stores.

With my fourth eye I saw the true nature of clapping.

And with my fifth eye… you’ll never believe this… but my fifth eye now works like the X-Ray vision glasses advertised in the back of comic books. I can see through clothes! Now that I am over 50 and my testosterone levels are dropping through the floor, it’s not as exciting as I would have guessed. I spend a lot of time trying to read the words in the “tramp stamps” of women in front of me at the grocery store. Most of the time the words turn out to be names written in a font I can barely decipher, but yesterday a woman had:

To Eat Is Human. To Digest, Divine.

With an image of a cabbage above it. This, you may well be aware, is the mark of a bodhisattva.

Wanting to get “a word” from the saint before me, I pointed to her selection of “vanilla bean” ice cream and asked her, “What is the difference between ‘vanilla bean’, ‘French vanilla’, and ‘old fashioned vanilla’?”

She said, “There is no difference. They are all the same.” Then she looked at me and said, “When you realize that all of this is an illusion, you can focus on the price and become a value shopper.”

I tried not to look at the leopard print on her bra while she was saying this because, remember, I can see through clothes.

She then pointed to the Tab I was buying and said, “That shit will kill you.”

I mumbled, “I know”, and then walked out of the store, trying not to notice all of the people wearing diapers. It’s many more than you would think, and it’s not really funny or sad, it just makes me wish I hadn’t looked into the sun.


The hour is getting late. We have to start planning the September Equinox party that ends the season. I was tentatively planning another “Lord of the Flies Party”. In that one, we get drunk on a beach, put a pig’s head on top of pole, strip to the waist, and then chase one person around while shouting “sucks to your asthmar”. It doesn’t sound like fun, but it is really a lot of fun, and who doesn’t like roasted pig?

But because of the citronella circle jerk, that idea is a loser, so we need new ideas. Last year was a “Field Day”, the year before was a Dionysian Mystery. My ideas for this year are:

  1. Circus Theme: Everyone can juggle “a little bit” or dress up like a clown. We find a few elephants, talk Terijo into being shot out of a cannon, serve popcorn for dinner, and then jump through hoops of fire while making cat noises. Could be good!
  2. Utopian Future: We wear gender-fluid lycra suits that adhere to Federation color schemes. We drink melted vanilla ice cream dyed green and laced with peppermint schnapps that we call “soylent”. The entertainment toggles between dancing to randomly selected house music and karaoke singing Taylor Swift songs until we decide to drop acid and shoot flares into the ocean until dawn.
  3. Last Gasp of Western Civilization: We all dress up as white men, listen to pre-baroque chamber music and choral read the entirety of Milton’s Paradise Lost. Then we drink gin and tonics, eat hamburgers and hot dogs, and shout at each other using Robert’s Rules of Order to determine the marching order of the Tiki Torch parade. We end with a donnybrook where everyone gets to punch at least one Nazi.
  4. The Russians: this idea needs no explanation.

Like I said, these are early ideas. I can get Claire working on whatever we come up with.

)

Gutbloom

Written by

Gutbloom

Tribune of Medium. Mayor Emeritus of LiveJournal. Third Pharaoh of the Elusive Order of St. John the Dwarf. I am to Medium what bratwurst is to food.

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