a careening rush

part five

There was a theme running through his dreams. In the moments before Terry-yesterday awoke, visions of vegetation, a return to nature, and haste entwined in an attempt to rock his body to action. Pasta-louis-this morning thrashed on the floor, the cold, hard wooden boards, and sat up straight covered in the dust and debris of last evening's endeavors. He rose today a different man. Not the timid Moe of last week, or the bothered Terry-today of yesterday, but as Pasta-louis who dreamt plants grew and flowered from his face with the nectar of the gods. His body was bronzed and driveling sycophants shaded him with leaves the size of small automobiles. This monstrous, self absorbed Pasta-louis could unabashedly surround himself with the hoi-polloi he required... he deserved!

Though disheveled, Pasta-louis felt dapper. Up, up he proclaimed, and so he stood and gazed upon the creation he wrought upon the once-was-wall. Bits of plaster and slivers from the busted wood planks shed from his rumpled, majestic garb. Crusty globs of cheese sauce flaked from his face and bare forearms, and he picked off a morsel and placed it on his tongue, savoring the breakfast like it was manna from the heavens. Today Pasta-louis was reborn, and he was overflowing with genius; godliness given by the great globular shmearing eye that glared from across the room.

There was no time to lose, not now, and Pasta-louis pulled his fingers through his hair and patted down his rumpled attire. The shmear, the Shmear!, demanded attention, and acolytes, and a throng besides. Pasta-Louis was Its ambassador now, he was the Shmear's prophet and Pasta-louis bowed in deference to the assignment. With this duty, he gained sizeable power on this Earth, and would command an army of followers, and be the greatest of the great!

The Shmear pulsed, and vibrated, and it howled as the power passed over the expanse and bloomed in Pasta-louis' chest. He nearly exploded as the sensation grew, but the current held steady then diminished as it found a place in every living cell of his body.

He turned and fled the room, and the house in an exalted spate, a haste to absolve the populace of the humanistic crutch that tied it down so close to the dirt of this world.