The American Subconcious

“Hey, what are two doing interacting with each other?,” shouted their big fat middle-aged manager from his office behind the bar as he sat smoking a cigar and counting his money. Philistine eyes quantify and evaluate. “You’re not allowed to have independent conversations; this job is your life! And I want to see smiles on your face when you interact with those customers! Big fat plastic smiles!”
Oh, how I hope that these little proletariat scum nothing guinea pigs aren’t smart enough to figure how much money I’m making off of them by exploiting them and paying them jack s**t, he thought to himself as he laughed with the gruesome morosity of a 2333 1/3 headed, venom-spitting hydra, and scratched his never used cellophane coated nuts, inhaling more cancer into his bloated distended corpse-like body that was full of all sorts of artificial chemicals and preservatives.
Bill O’Reilly’s face was blaring away on a television set in the background, “No marijuana, that divine ambrosial forbidden celestial intoxication! No fun for anyone, herd animal hamster get back on your treadmill! Work and suffer! Work and suffer! Make plastic goodies for all the insufferable miscreants who look like they have a bad case of case of gas! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
And at that moment Jackee O.’s subconciousness looked like this: Deflate that whoopee cushion you intolerable empty venomous hot air as it shoots forth form your anus like a viral spiral, what a sack of s**t! You think I’m just another malformed misshapen erector set but I got you in my side quarter pocket as I hope that all the gorgeous blossoming springtime beauties are receptive to my lingam gnosis. Oh, please be benevolent my buxom sun goddess, don’t leave me sex starved, my cup runneth over! You think you see me but you don’t because I’ve been trained in super secret stealth techniques by the KBG. I could kill you with my eyelash just ma eyelash ma man as I go plink and we both disappear. Hey, fractal, shall I shall black your eyes again since you never use them for anything but to find yesterdays sticky, icky, sicky puss-covered worm eatin’ garbage that only a maggot would call a home. You spend all your lives in the s**t so I guess you must like it, flies buzzing around you the time, that is your life. You could take a bath anytime you wanted and clean your soul, esteeming the entrails of the earth and bringing glory unto the starving hearts of humanity. Don’t bleat like a lamb, roar like a lion using both sides of the brain. Somewhere in the past your film reel was cut short you mediocre slug, but this is the present and it’s time for your star to rise. Mutate and come home in glory as all eight of your nueorcircuits evolve through set sequence of biomechanical evolutionary stages that can be engaged with the use of the proper nuerochemicals and your soul sores unbridled through the starry chunky monkey milky way like Chewy Chocolate Chips Ahoy© cookies that melt in your mouth not in your [insert body part/cavity of your choice]. I love you; I yearn for you to unfasten your clenched jaw. All that unnecessary tension! [You’ve got mail™!] Just relax a little bit as old Taiwanese woman named Tammy gives you a Happy Ending and Kenny G©. blares away in the background [Sanitized and censored for your protection, brain dead women giving me erections, but they’re all synthetic, no affection, sell your soul the next election, I would like to believe that you’re my reflection, but if that is true then we are all fucked, you do this to me every day and I don’t know why, so put coins on my eyes because I am dying, you can’t live without your heart and mine is aching, America cannot see anything], you can bath in the waxing sunlight forever if wanted too as it reflects off a slightly dented old copper sundial set against a warm, steaming, tropical rainforest as gibbons screech and flash their salivating bicuspits as they scuttle through the vine-laden trees that dangle the ripest, sweetest, juiciest fruits that make your mouth water in anticipation to look at them (but you cannot touch, they are under glass) and they have gnarly a*s unruly monkey butt sex with each other all day until an orange harvest moon rises and it’s goodbye sober days [let’s take a trip, let’s take a ride penetrate the evening that the city sleeps to hide] and fur flies everywhere (it’s getting hot in here so take all of all your clothes)[Eeeek! Eeek! Shamonah!] and there are a multitude of wild animals crying in the foreground but you have returned to the Garden of Eden once again and they are your friends. Focus and refocus your eyelids and let the good times roll because my joy is to see your joy! You should all view yourselves equally chosen and lovely destined for heaven and great things. I love every f*****g thing that writhes and moves on this baby planet and my hatred is just a stage prop(just one ugly voice that is a reflection of the entire world) to make way for a much needed changing of the guard because out with the old, in with new 2001 Space Odyssey star child shimmering with golden gossamer, stridently trailing purple hues, and equipped with the fiery, immolating eye of Horus, tantric yogic shakti muchos grandes, and a well formed body of light, we are immortal. It’s time for us to conjoin together like the 64-patterned, double helix genetic spiral. This ‘aint no granola chewin’ lolly pop land dripping with shallow saccharine sweetness, this is the real deal maximum steal so don’t worry, be happy. A mammoth pastiche of a writing that slaughters opposition and now you know my name. My name is serial no. Aaaaaaah! Cut. End the ever continuous dream sequence and return to the illusory linear real time narrative.
“All, I really want is a holistic ying-yang interchangeable unity of the anima and the animus, alchemy,” sighed Jackee O, turning away despondently, “Oh, Why can’t I find a superwoman? A strong, yet nurturing Gaian Earth Mother of pulchritudinous perfection par excellence? Why should Dionysus not be permitted to eclipse Apollo?”
“Goddamnit”, mumbled Jackee,”drugs are my only consolation for having to live in a society full of a bunch of God-forsaken sexless retards. No peace ever, that’s hippy s**t. I wish that everyone could taste the sweet venom of my poison sting, as my soul lies in the garden of Les Fleur Du Mal.”
He threaded his way over to a jukebox like an amoeba and was pleased to discover that the Dead Kennedy’s song “Government flu” was readily available for his listening pleasure. The neon light of the jukebox reflected off his face like a face like a spatial anomaly. That familiar space cadet glow. He inserted his filthy lucre into the jukebox and amidst the sound of discordant guitar and drums a mockingly soothing high-pitched woman’s voice began to flood the bar:
“Why are you such a stupid a*****e, would you really like to know? Well pay your fee, remove your clothes and the vet will show you how. You went to school where you were taught to fear and to obey, be cheerful, fit in, or someone might think you’re weird. Life CAN be perfect, people CAN be trusted. Someday I will fall in love, with a nice quiet home of my very own, free from all pain, happy and having fun all the time. It never happened, did it?” Jell-O Biafra’s high pitched demented cartoon voice came piercing through screaming, We got a drug, we’re gonna try out on you, won’t make you die, it’ll get you just a little bit sick…T.V. sells you a disease that you think you have…”
Jackee O. watched Service Woman and Money Exchange System Man continue to service customers and perform rudimentary tasks. Mindless, repetitious, tribally imposed sequences. “And how are you today mam?”
“Oh, just fine. I just have to stop and buy my kids some more toys and food before we go home.”
There was no love. It was all mechanical. And so was their fear and their hate. Because only some would go to heaven. The rest would to hell while the chosen ones laughed merrily. It was all based upon a set rules and regulations that you had to follow, and no one ever bothered to question it. Too scary. Meanwhile the ones in charge made off with their money and their lives. Many of the people working there never said anything to each other, and someday they would all die. An old couple sat at one of the booths, “I’ll never read that newspaper again far too liberal.” Books stashed away, never read. A young couple sitting behind them embraced each other. The soft, pulsating, liquid love and the warm glow.