Imagination is a wellspring of clear water to a thirsty man. Which is
how we come by this eclectic story about a lead ball fired from a
musket.
A long time ago, in a land most people call Australia,
there was an imaginary war going on over kangaroos. It started very
quietly, a simple argument here and there. It then escalated until the
entire continent was divided into two sides; the side for kangaroos and
the side for unicorns. Now why they were fighting is a mystery as there
are no unicorns, even in an imaginary war in Australia.
Our lead
character, a humble musket ball, was born into this insanity, a quiet
and unimpressive birth. The quintessence of his batch, which was full of
impurities, he journeyed forth to conquer in the name of kangaroos, or
kaleidoscopes, he really wasn't sure. Unable to read a lick of cursive
he almost missed out, as his orders were entirely in cursive Australian.
He
crossed deserts and the oceans, seeing mermaids and oracles. It was a
linear procession, all the way from one side of Australia to the other.
Somehow they managed to be really late for the battle. When they arrived
it had all but ended. Out of politeness it raged on for two more months
before everyone, berated by their own insanity, admitted that it was a
stupid war anyway.
Unfortunately for our musket ball he had been
fired into a creative operator named Marty. Marty was a persistent
bastard with quite a geological outlook. Unfortunately for Marty, the
musket ball was lead and he soon died of lead poisoning. After that the
musket ball decided to live his life as a material girl, even though he
had no money, nor was he a girl.
It was shortly after this, that
he met a woman best described as Xanthippe and virginal. The flowers
always wilted, the wishing was wasted on a sour attitude. Also,
anatomically speaking, it could never be. Before he was bludgeoned to
death by said woman, he gallantly made his way to Atlantis.
In
Atlantis he wrote quiet dirges and robust canticles, attempting
adornment for a dead world. Finding this endeavor abortive, he decided
to use his charisma to get a telemarketing job in Japan. As he didn't
speak any Japanese, he found himself out of a job. It was at this
time in his life that the realization came to him. What realization it
might have been I don't know, but it made him decide to travel to
England in search of knighthood and kingly status. Irritated by his
abasement, being only a musket ball, he found he could not be knighted
as he was born in a penal colony. Jeering and peasant comments chased
him out of England and toward Mars.
Finding the atmosphere on
Mars more personable, he decided to open a nuclear nether region store.
He managed it quite well for a time, nearly tasting victory. Magnets
were his most popular sales. Having a vested interest, he watchfully
enjoyed his solitude.
Salvation came in the form of reason and
deltoid muscles as he realized selling magnets to Martians was not how
he wanted to spend his life. He deleted himself from Martian history and
followed his sudden urge to play violin.
He purchased a violet
violin for a quixotic and romantic performance. Optimism soared with
each crescendo, a textured soliloquy of undulating zest and dessication.
It was only eclipsed by an elaborate fluttering of gelid waves. Hurried
by this, he was suspended in time and leaves. Loved by littering verbs,
his entire environment was under x-ray. A glimpse of an original
juxtaposition involving Cupid and Venus illuminated a xanthic land.
Yellow and hateful it made the musket ball yelp. A yodel ripped through
the earth, forcing a shutter and teasing sensation through a magical
xylophone.
A zebra appeared to the musket ball and he rode it
like a Zamboni into the sunset. Justified by filtering, he was hungry
for something purely naughty. A yearling skipped past him into a giant
zipper. Jealousy erupted inside him, so that he hunted the yearling
through the zipper. Inside he was tested by his own conscience. Except,
he didn't have a conscience being a lead ball. He felt falsified by this
information and he reverted back to consciousness.
"It was all a
dream!" He realized. He was a person, not a musket ball. Taking up a
quill, he began to write about his adventures. His reconciliation to
this is how this crazy story came to be.
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