pigboy glanced behind him, shivering
“p-p-pigboy is here.” he wiped his forehead, “pigboy is here.”
“I’ve been sitting…” he sniffled “ in a… laboratory…”
a tear ran down his eye, it looked, to Pigboy, as though the tear was smigman slamming a hoof on his evapulator.
“I realize…” pigboy continued “that I… am a slump-male”
smigman slammed a hoof on his evapulator.
“If I ever have to hear that wormswort pontificate…”
“smigman, you’ll never break an evapulator, that is top quality Dirt Road”
“there…” continued pigman, “ are twenty pigmen… in the field of yonder. this is the chrome.”
“speeceboi,” cried smigman, “ if u would?”
smig notioned to the evapulator
“be quiet. I want to hear the rest of pigboy’s sautee”
“a slump-male,” continued pigman “this… is the chrome.”
“If I, what?” said sidgwick
“no” said speeceeboi, “he was talking to me.”
“nineteen” said sedgwick.
“a nineteenth century railroad,” said pigboy, “this, the inter-net…”
“pals,” said sedgwick, “i would like —
the door directly ahead thudded open. the head of doctore force appeared in increments of three inches. he nudged his head into the doorway slowly. first we saw his hair. and then his forehead. and then his nose. and then his eyes. his body followed.
“saliva?” he said, “it’s that time of month.”
“n-no” i said
“no,” i said
my pals all said the same.
force left. the door followed after.
I turned on the evapulator.
“Someone once said,” continued Pigboy, “That beauty… is only deepskin.”
“I am” said Pigboy, “too young… to be a slump-male.”
smigman started at cow.
‘smigman” said speeceboi, “please hit sidgwick”
“OK” said smigman
“this…” went the evapulator, “is pigboy…”
speeceeboi watched as smigman’s eyes tightened at the sound of pigman’s squint-pitched voice. smigman. turned sidgwick to chrome.
“we a surely on our way” said smigman“on that superhighway… of information”
“I think..” said pigboy “a sort of… ‘foot’, on my ankle” “the minutes fall like cavemen. and the pigs are encumbered… poisoned… by the daft plain.”
He waved a hoof.
“O machine, how did you fail us?”
brutal bear of all opprobrium
bear sat silent.
he had just left the hotel
“bear has sad and inconveinent truths” said his friend, “he would like to share”
bear walked forward downcast, down trodden, palpably sad, terribly grey. a few droplets had his eyes or maybe they had left. we couldn’t tell if he was crying:
“i am bear,” he bagan “bear am i”
we watched in astute terror and consternation
“I do not know why” he lit his cigar, inhaled.
“life” he exhaled
“steps” he inhaled, “on baby fingers.”
“a well bind. a bad end.”
at this point a woman had to be excused because she began crying because of the profundity of the text. i began to cry as well but the judge allowed it to slide because i was a woman.
“when i was a child,” he continued “i stared… with the sobriety of an aged prophet of the plain… i am terrified of my own reflection.”
“BEAR!” I asked, hands trembling, “what is in your hand?”
“a snapper… with a fatal art.. who resents all stupid questions”
“can he speak?” I asked
“I think” said the snapper “we’re stuck… in a web.” the snapper shot his eyes here and there furiously, teeth chattering, “a sort of.. nerve-net.. a sort of inter-net… as it were… we might be here.. for quite a long time… here, in this — web… or… inter-net… as it were.”
I looked to my left and saw neatyboy. I wanted to say hello. He was the kindest alligator I had —
“Order” called Bear, “allow the red-dog who has been whimpering in the background to speak.”
“But sir!” we cried
We could not stop him.
“Ahem,” went red-dog, ““in far off califronteer there is no natural plan. its mighty branching and its preponderant boughs weigh heavy on a suntag morning.”
I watched Neatyboy exit.