I got me a letter posted on my porch before this morning came around. Here's the transcription:
""" No longer will we ants of this ether,
Reach into the mud for our nutrients.
We will slurp the goodness of the
Mantras around us. """
Donkle kankle. I have had enough seeing of this. Not once but three times in this past week, I have witnessed innocent people in need of things approach this corner store or that, only to be rejected on the basis that their tokens (administered to them by the Government) are no longer valid (in the eyes of the government or its people).
It is not right. These people were promised the right to meatloaf, yo-yos, and beer, as well as miscelaneous other necessities and enjoyables in general. They paid their taxes. They planned their lives around the promises made to them, much like the goldfish who gave up their wings assuming that food flakes would continue to submerge from the surface every so often forever.
Now, all of the sudden, those suited shape-shifters, the folks who are so fond of Greek architecture, are pulling every damn rug out from under every damn thing that sits on any rug anytime anywhere.
Donkle kangle. Those impersonators of Athenians deserve the same fate as the statues from ancient Greece: To be embalmed in sun-dried yellow-green excrement.
I got me another letter a few days later. This one short and quick.
""" Slurp up the sounds of the Gods.
They will feed you."""
And I been hearing these quick repetitive voice hymns, sung with many voices at the same time. Beautiful, but strange and I can't escape them. The shapeshifters, I think, are playing these songs from jeeps on every streetcorner at all hours.
The noise irks me bad as my thumb I smushed accidentally with a hammer. But, I've realized, I get terribly tired and sleepy when I cover up my ears. Something is going on here methinks.
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