This story is for my friend Kieran, who just turned ten. You can read it if you promise to unchain that small, quick and precious child and linger while I make these words your magic carpet ride. If you lack the leisure, perhaps you should look elsewhere for your pleasure. A casino may be just the spot, they deserve more of what you got.
Not just another day, this one smelled of promise and heroic feats, and more besides, delectable eats. A dogs' life is lived happily if he can roam, hunt and pee. The happiest dogs are those that spend the day, sniffing and not giving themselves over - to couches or chains, and names like Rover. Tugg was one such doggie, thinking dog-clear, self-true, crisp not soggy.
Along his favorite path he went, up a forest hill, time well spent, sniffing here and there. Catching the unmistakable scent of matted hair, arrogance, in short, a bigbig, brown Bear. Down the path he's coming, thought Tugg, I feel his claws on hard-packed ground ---a drumming.
Out of my way, you pansy cretin, else you'll get a righteous beatin', smirked the treetall bear.
Oh yeah? thought Tugg scowling, and growling slow, like from some cave below.
If theres not room for us to pass, you can kiss my champaign glass.Tugg answered politely, cheerful, though a little bit contritely.
You are a pesky terrier, that I see, and don't be crass, you have no champaign glass.
Ah, a moron bear you are, I spotted you from afar. I could tell by your beady eyes and the way you attract that swarm of flies.
You look like a mangey hound to me, another word from you, you'll see, I'll include you in my --- Uhhh, what rymes with "you?"
Stove pipe flue?
No, no, not that.
Dinner plans?
Yeah --- that's it --- I'll include you in my dinner plans.
Tugg could not help but smile. Like taking jerky from a little child.
So get off my path, or I'll swipe you with my paw and send you running home to your -- Pa.
Ha Ha Ha Ha, the bear chuckled at his own wit.
Now don't be a snit, said Tugg. In a little bit, you'll learn a lesson you won't soon forgit.
A snit? What's a snit? You're just making stuff up. I hate this story, this story is stupid. I'm a bigbig bear, not some rhymer. I tear down trees or rip them up and sometimes eat berries for dessert. Seasonally, mind you.
If you don't like this tale, you best turn --- and get off my path. With that Tugg started warming up his Bear killing motor, by kicking his back legs, scattering dirt far behind him.
Hey, I'm the bear in this story and I'm not rhyming nothing and not getting off this path. Said the bear.
You may be tall, strong and big, said Tugg, revving up his motor, but I will snap you like a rotten twig.
A rotten twig, that's a hoot, run along little doggy or I'll give you the -- shoe.
Tuggs' motor was now humming hot and fluid. He was nearly ready to go to it. He could hardly contain himself, this would be more fun than his chew-toy on Rick's shelf.
You're beginning to make me mad, said the Bear, considering you're the smallest meal I ever had. The bear lunged forward, smashing good, the spot where once Tugg stood. Then he realized his error, he's run under me, he thought in terror.
Now a bear has thick fur on his skin, not even the longest teeth will sink in. But there is a spot where he has no hair.
There, there, I spot them there, Bear balls with no hair. Noted Tugg, before his teeth sunk in.
In a flash the bear lost his grin. He let out an anguished cry, but Tugg hung on and said with a sigh:
Oooh, these bear balls smell bad, remind me of a Limburger cheese I once had.
to be cont.
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About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
4 comments:
okey dokey
i am no longer pokey
out to play
B 4
i miss the day
my name is gida and I have been posting on roberto’s blog for some seven or eight months.
recently there has been a lot of rage pouring out of me and I wish to thank you for your patience. and also to thank you for the opportunity to express myself honestly on this very special blogsite as I attempted to work through the source of my rage. do we ever get to the bottom of such a well? maybe not in our human forms. but for me, the attempt to work through difficult emotions must be made and the alternative is not an option.
I personally believe that the world is filled with balrogs. some of you perhaps recall the character from peter jacksons cinematic portrayal of tolkien’s fellowship of the ring. for those of you who are less familiar, a balrog is that part of each one of us that lives in the pit of our own private hell. there is no one who is absent of the balrog. the balrog is the most aggressive, fear filled hate monger that one can imagine. the balrog is the bad and the ugly. in the scene in which the balrog appears, the company of nine is picking their way through the mines of moria. it took me nine viewings to remain in my seat through the entire scene; it was this terrifying. the balrog is the most fragmented, misaligned piece of our psyche and as stated, no one, NO ONE is without an inner balrog just as no one is without a divine child. for those of you who have little to no familiarity with this inner demon, god help the rest of us because of you the rest of us are little more than scapegoats in your maya dream scape. it is you who most create the nightmare that is largely the world in which we find ourselves.
I am not an angry person generally speaking because I am well acquainted with my balrog. the truth can be managed, a sage once reminded me. it is the illusion that creates the nightmare and the deluge.
what is happening in america is overall frightening to put it mildly. we are a country of surplus. we have a surplus of junk as robert has so recently pointed out. and we have a surplus of addicts/junkies. I am one and so are you. name your poison and begin at least to manage it. I don’t believe that there are healthy addictions or healthy addicts. by its very nature, addiction is insidious. addictions to happy faces or to heroin, polar opposites yet both are insidious. out of balance. my addiction is in trying to bring light into the dark, into trying to transform what seeks to remain stagnant. it is a type of missionary I suppose. I am always with this mission it seems. make the boo boo go away. clean up the doo doo.
the chinese are a more ancient culture and in many ways we still thumb our noses at our mentors. the chinese have tried for many years to educate us to think of health and dis ease as balance and im balance. however, we are a country of greed. we like to protect our investments. there are many many balrogs who would have us believe hole heartedly in what they have named a dis ease.
technology to pay for. pharmaceuticals to pay for. hospitals to pay for. our comfort to pay for. just as ancient cultures would sacrifice a virgin; we must also sacrifice many virgins to maintain the equilibrium. we are by and large black and white; if I am good, you must be not good. if I am perfect, you must be flawed. if I am right, you must be wrong. we as a people, have a difficult time on the balance beam, wild and erratic is our frontier justice.
once we have attached a label to something, we are well on our way to creating something. once we have identified with a label, we are well on our way to fullfilling our own prophecy, a prophecy suggested usually by some pro fesssioknow it all.
look at our schools. can any of us even begin to list the names of all of the disorders these weary balrogs have manufactured to control the earth’s diversity. to largely mismange our children.
let us call it chaos. let us call it something “other” than good so that we can be either/or. let us suffice to say that all 26 letters of the english alphabet have been used to initialize our so called ab normalities. when is it going to stop. will it ever stop. we are all by degree handicapped. why not just ante up and build a ramp for the whole imperfucking lot of us.
when are we going to accept that we are a bi polar planet. for those of you balrogs that wish to live on a uni polar planet, why not get thee to a mummery and let the rest of us enjoy our radiant diversely rich being.
do you know what travels faster than light. light and dark together. it is called perfect balance. it is far from stagnant but it is stationary. it does not accelerate like the balrog in search of its shadow. go deep within your perfectly flawed being and stop passing around your hot balrog potato. grow a tomato. or sit in the bi polar sun. leave the comfort zone of your illusion that there is some boo booger outside of your nostril. the boo booger you see is you. I already have looked up my own nose hole and I do not need a doctor’s assist. nor do I need a doctors stethoscope to tell me where my heart is or isn’t. nor do I need his prod nor his Rx. not this rabbit.
let us speak of healing. let us speak of kneeling at the alter of our own balrog before it eats out our bowels or the bowels of whoever is willing to play the role in a worn our script that we call the american scream.
and just think what we have to look forward to if we become more at ease with our global bi polarity. we can begin moving towards multiple poles. instead of multiple personality disorder, excuse me, mpd; we can call it universal reality.
instead of smoking out terrorists on the other side of the globe, georgie porgie can bring it back home.
Thank God you read this blog. rrrr
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