March 25, 2012
CANNIBALS CANNIBALS

Following him back and then slaughtered all of his prize goldfish. If only ‘peasant’ wasn’t such a funny word. And here I am trying to make sense of the whole thing. Not that it hasn’t been difficult, you know, lying all this time.
In stead of our flight captain, Rodney Regas Vegas was going to be put in charge. I wasn’t really concerned about it apart from the fact that I and himself had spent the last fourteen years on a boat drinking. We had only really got sober once we had reached the shore and from there it was Rodney that was the keenest to switch from sea to air.
‘It’s like sailing only through clouds. Clouds are water you know. Thousands of tiny droplets all moving together in one breath. Like the sea.’
‘Barry Crockett.’ I said. ‘No-one’s gonna get something made out of metal to sail through these clouds.’ I indicated the wooden clouds splintering in the sky.
I was wrong. When we joined the Air Cunts and signed up, they brought us to our planes. They were an inch high and made out of sandalwood. This, I thought, was bollocks.
But Rodney was still keen. ‘I’m sure they got a trick up their sleeve,’ he said, indicating his sleeve. Thousands of tiny ants were crawling out from within.
Pretty soon the Air Cunts got to training us. We had to push our selves inside ourselves in order to get to the correct dimension needed to enter the fighters. Whoever had been in mine previously had left a tiny potted beanstalk on the dash. Fucking tourists. Most of the other guys did all right and stayed more or less in proportion but there was this one young guy who made himself really flat and wide. He looked really unhealthy and he was having trouble breathing all the time. Come to think of it, nobody did anything to help him.
Rodney was in my ear. ‘This is gonna be hip square super duper tip top!’
‘Fuck yeah’ I said unenthusiastically. A mountain goat had wandered into the barracks and was eating all my salad.
‘Fuckbrains!’ He shouted. ‘A nutritious breakfast cereal.’
He went on in a similar fashion. He seemed to be taking the whole thing really seriously now that we were sober. I tried to ask him what was up but I was too miserable since I had contracted gingivitis and was probably going to turn blind.
After a few months I was fully blind and Rodney Regas Vegas was making flight captain. Our mission, he said, was to collect sea urchins and bring them back to be used for detergent and wine.
‘We aren’t even anywhere near the sea Rodney. You’re a fucking cunt you know that. I can’t even fucking see.’
Rodney didn’t say anything. He pretty much ignored me all day now. We took off in silence and continued along the coastal path. I crashed a lot into hegdes and the floor because I was blind. But the sandalwood planes were resistant to pretty much everything that wasn’t a very fast dog or bird so I was grateful somewhat. Eventually Rodney was beginning to lose hope.
‘Let’s go back.’ He said. ‘My mother was right I am completely feckless.’
But I was beginning to see something in the distance.
‘Keep going.’ I said. ‘I’m beginning to see something in the distance.’
Ahead of us appeared a twilight moon encircled round by and past, enshrouded by this, following round, then left behind – colour. And then vibrance allowed, render inward boughs of salt shook and the cataclysm blued. Laid now, complacent, I saw.
‘I can see!’ I shouted, full of the glee. ‘I can see the sea!’
‘You can sea the see?’
‘C the C.’
And I did si saw ce sea sand sollowed cit soo ce cedge. Cere si saited sor sit, sand siled sasay sanother sear.

MJHM

10:38pm
  
Filed under: michael milner 
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