Ratstrat blues



It hath come to understanding, that speed of time is faster than speed of light. Time has come to be known as the most precious commodity, time and again, partly because it facilitates satire, and party because it’s the fastest commodity. There are hold-ups, moments get elongated, but that’s just like some godly DJ’ing, the track of life is technically running, even after death. Got no time to get into that!


The giant distorted one-eyed Mickey Mouse is running on sonic waves in the universe in one corner of the Milky Way, just jumping over those potaholic time lapses on those sonic street. Look at that smile! Somewhere, in that alternate universe, Mickey Mouse is playing the Heath Ledger of a DC comic-book! And he’s probably killin’ it. And you’re just standing at a Modern Art Museum, staring at it. Not knowing, that the cameraman is painting a picture of you doing what you do. In your gut, you have this feeling, that it would be a marvelous piece of work. Marvelous? It would be a piece of shit if it were marvelous, right?


They met after forever, probably 3 or 4 years, it had been that long, it felt like forever. And they were doing what they always did. Thinking time encourages habits. Habits, can be good, or bad. Mostly bad because they are not congruent with nature’s one law, the constancy of change. Change is not the only constant, but it is one. Learning is the other constant, but let’s save that one for a rainy day. They are secretly hoping for it to rain. When the universe goes Trick-or-Treating, it shows up like a little green monster at your door, you get lost looking in its eyes, and you thank lord for slowing time down, what a treat. You offer your eye candy some candy, that Mickey Mouse smile on your face. Next thing you know, it is biting your face off.



You know what, life is short, time just flies by, here’s another life. You wake up the next day, and you walk right into that big supermarket with the bright lights, well into the morning, just in time to get your bacon. A large Backward Hat Matt smoothie smoothie on your way out. Blueberry-banana-peanut butter with a buncha-other-hippie-stuff in it, to win it. It is highly probable that you have a car chase on the way back home because you drove over a few people, you finally make your way over to the bridge, circle around a bit, your convertible’s top is obviously up today, you finally make it to that bush near the sewer next on Wellington and Ape, and you press a button in your car, your new carbon fiber roof stretching in. Air gushes behind a corner on the bush, the door opens up, your hypo-mutated vines hanging tight but loose, and you turn right in.


Your car is painted red next day, a white stripe running through your midlife crisis. Minnie found out about all the other girls you slept with, but the planets are at war. There are three sacred animals, and from each descends one planet. This is the planet of the apes. Turtles and eagles. At the moment, you haven’t earned enough in life to have the privilege of learning which planet is which. It is frustrating. But it gets better, you did invest your points well, you do know that either one of them is coming. What did you do with the rest of your points? You bought space mines. Screens thinner than air, transparency is key, and the producer takes ownership. The good thing is you live in a world with 100% guarantee. In case the object and/or subject does not demolish upon entering the vicinity of these space mines, it had an array of advanced artilleries that could destroy an object 1/10th the size of the planet without getting anybody hurt. Mircoblastin’ the shit out of it!


Like any other great game, it doesn’t have an end. They knew, that’s what it took to make a¬†great game, especially when you’re dealing with AR. You are lost in your own augmented reality. You even have a pet turtle named Drama! While your true dying being is sitting there thinking, for days to come.


Time flies, wow!











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