THINGS NEVER SAID #61:

“I walked by the Beef Jerky store everyday. And every time I kept telling myself, I should stop in, but I got somewhere to be. Kept thinking I should go in there. But no I’m too busy. Never went in there. A lot of times I didn’t even have anywhere I absolutely had to be, just didn’t want the burden of having to keep the Beef Jerky store afloat. ‘Cause I buy plenty of Beef Jerky at the gas station. That should count for something. Like it’s the same product in different locations but the money all flows towards one pot, right? I’m sure that’s how it works. But for me the Beef Jerky is something that goes well with the gas station experience. When I’m hit with an all Beef Jerky deal . . . it just fills me with doubt. It causes me to question whether or not there’s danger in going with the All-Beef-Jerky-Approach. Like if I just spend all my money on Beef Jerky but then I can’t buy any gasoline. See, that can’t happen at the gas station, ‘cause I’ve got the two things right there, I can keep ‘em both in mind, and each in the correct proportion of headspace. If it’s all Beef Jerky in mind then the gas just gets crowded right out. Maybe they can’t sell gasoline inside the Beef Jerky store but maybe they could, like, have gas station decor as a theme. That might keep things in proportion. Maybe that could work.”

THE NEW DREAM #59:

I’m saving the world

By going through the breakfast rush drive thru line

Right as I’m handed my food bag

I start to roll forward

The vehicles behind me are eager to get to where I’ve just been

I pump brakes as I look inside food bag, to check and see if they got my order right

Sounds of squealing brakes’n’crunching metal all behind me

I nod in satisfaction at the correctness of my order, then drive on

I return to the same drivethru line the following morning

I’m the only one on it

I get my order, it’s correct, I’m on my way, shit goes by fast, how nice

Later, online, I watch a series of videos posted by people who got into some kind of chain collision on the drive thru line

Nothing too serious

No one died

One person had a panic attack, I guess

Costs for repairs not great, what can you do

But these people in these videos

They talk about how getting all wrecked up together really got ‘em all thinking about their dietary habits and such, how they wanted to eat healthier, get their steps in, do bicycle shit, burn less gasoline, contribute less to Climate Inferno and soulless corporations, think about their children’s futures, think about everyone’s futures

So, these wrecked up people started a kind of hang-out which becomes a kind of commune which ends up in the news as this creepy wife-swapping shit which ends in murder which ends in a popular true crime podgrift-

And I’m getting frustrated then angry then basically relieved that no one’s even aware of my role in this chain of madness-

And then I’m over it

Like how you get over things in life, even when you’re living some kind of dream

You shake it loose

The weird feeling the ice cream gives you in your head goes away

You see what you really accomplished

I wasn’t saving the world at all

I moved on from all that

And then, in the next phase, I became Batman-

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 106

F.A.Q. #32:

Q: What lies beyond the vending machines, the mobile device charging station, the waist level stand distributing a free weekly sales paper, and the hip little indie coffee shop that’ll be lucky to be in business six months from now?

A: The stygian depths where Behemoth and Leviathan dwell.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #256:

IN YET ANOTHER SIGN OF A WEAKENING ECONOMY, STATIONERY SALES ARE AT A COMPLETE STANDSTILL . . . A NEW STUDY PUBLISHED BY A THREAT ASSESSMENT THINK TANK DESCRIBES A DISTURBING INCREASE IN AMBUSH-STYLE BOSS BATTLE EVENTS DURING STAFF ROLLS. TRADITIONALLY, STAFF ROLLS ARE CONSIDERED A SAFE PLACE WHERE YOU NOD YOUR HEAD TO THE BUMPIN’ END TITLE THEME WHILST GLORYING IN YOUR HARD-WON VICTORY AGAINST ALL ENEMIES AND AGAINST ALL ODDS. ACCORDING TO THE STUDY, DURING THIS PAST YEAR ALONE STAFF ROLLS WERE INVADED BY TWELVE SECRET FINAL BATTLES; FIVE PLOT TWIST SHOWDOWNS WHERE YOUR QUESTGIVER TURNED OUT TO BE THE SECRET MASTERMIND OF YOUR ORDEALS; THREE BOSS RUSHES; AND ONE CURTAIN CALL IN WHICH FORMER ENEMIES WERE SUPPOSED TO BE CORDIAL PARTICIPANTS THAT SPARKED OFF INTO RENEWED HOSTILITIES DUE TO ACCUSATIONS OF OVER-RELIANCE ON SPAM ATTACKS DURING THE FINAL BATTLE. ADDING TO THE CONFUSION ARE MESSAGES PRODUCED BY A SECRET ORGANIZATION CALLING ITSELF ‘THE ATLANTEAN ARISTOCRACY’ WHO CLAIM TO BE ORCHESTRATING AMBUSH ATTACKS FROM BEHIND THE SCREEN. SKEPTICS OF A CONSPIRACY ACCUSE THE ATLANTEAN ARISTOCRACY OF EXPLOITING PERVASIVE ONLINE CONSPIRACY CULTURES TO ACHIEVE TROLLING GLORY. THE STUDY ITSELF MAKES NO ACCUSATIONS OF A CONSPIRACY, AND EXPLICITLY CITES “THE ONGOING QUEST FOR NOVELTY” AS THE LIKELY CAUSE . . . DONALD TRUMP-WHO IS, ALLEGEDLY, STILL THE U.S. PRESIDENT-FAILED TO RAISE EYEBROWS THIS WEEKEND AFTER HE ISSUED A LONGFORM SERIES OF TRUTH SOCIAL POSTS IN WHICH HE ADVOCATED FOR THE CANCELLATION OF MIDTERM ELECTIONS IN ORDER TO ”END WOKENESS AS WE KNOW IT,” AND DESCRIBED A NEW PROGRAM THAT WOULD IMPOSE AN AUTOMATIC LIFE SENTENCE UPON ANYONE REGISTERING AS A DEMOCRAT FOR THE FIRST TIME. TRUMP’S ONLINE POSTS THIS TIME AROUND GENERATED SURPRISINGLY LITTLE ENTHUSIASM FROM EITHER SUPPORTERS OR DETRACTORS. SOCIAL RESEARCHERS SUGGESTED THAT BOTH PRO-MAGA AND ANTI-MAGA VOTERS ALIKE HAVE REACHED A POINT WHERE THEY CAN NO LONGER LIVE IN DENIAL OF THE OVERALL FAILURE OF THE U.S. AS THE ECONOMY CONTINUES TO COLLAPSE, THE FOREVER WAR WITH IRAN ACCUMULATES MORE CIVILIAN VICTIMS, AND INDIVIDUAL AMERICANS RECKON WITH THEIR OWN CULPABILITY AS MINDLESS, AMORAL CONSUMER DRONES WHO THROW THEIR SUPPORT BEHIND WHATEVER CON ARTIST OFFERS THEM EMPTY NATIONALISTIC SLOGANS AND JUNK TRINKETS DESTINED FOR THE REEKING LANDFILL OF HISTORY . . . STOCKS ARE UP . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #106:

The axiomatic shopping cart that makes billions off of launching the Bowel Movement Cinematic Universe.

PLACES YOU CAN GO #13:

There’s this sleazy little motel-the Econododge-you can hit up just down from Exit XYZ-

-of course, no one talks about what goes on there.

That’s just not happening.

You’re not gonna say one word about your visit.

Not because you’re afraid of scandal.

You just don’t remember.

Really.

You don’t remember a thing.

No one who goes there ever remembers a goddamn thing.

Well . . . there’s one thing that sticks with you . . . 

It’s not actually a memory of anything.

Because, more than likely, nothing happened.

Not like in the usual sense.

But you are left with something nice: the afterglow.

That’s right!

This sleazy motel just skips right to the best part.

As close to a truly frictionless experience as you’re likely to get in this world.

10 out of 10, amirite?

Of course . . . if you’re into friction . . . then the Econododge probably isn’t for you.

It’s how it goes.

Billions served . . . but you can’t please everybody . . .

THINGS NEVER SAID #60:

“I don’t mind paying more at the pump. Big Oil needs the extra money for therapy, y’know, ‘cause of all their self-esteem issues. Everyone knows fossil fuels are contributing to the carbon pollution that powers Climate Inferno. Everyone knows that Big Oil has known this for generations and that they have callously chosen Huge Profits over An Actual Fucking Future-and this has just done a number on their self-image. Which is why I’m happy to pay more at the pump. Help those poor Big Oil people out with their self-loathing and so forth. And it doesn’t matter if I go broke doing all this. The future is only gonna get hotter. All this cash is gonna go up in flames anyways. May as well figuratively burn through it before it literally catches fire, heh, heh, heh, oh, yes, sir, yes, ma’am, ha, ha, ha . . .”

THE NEW DREAM #58:

Two halves of the dumptruck on a plate

A knife for spreading

The tub of cream cheese spread

Coffee at the ready

I’m seized with dissatisfaction

At this every morning shit

So

I reach into this swirly-doo opening at chest level

I’m flooded with tumultuous memories of contractors fed into the howling basis of some accursed house

Guess it’s supposed to be mine

And now I’m piling all my beloved things onto a half of a dumptruck

Lamborghini. Fighter jet. Subterranean research and development facility where I train up psychic pitbulls. My collection of CB radio dictionaries. Locus Solus in three different English language translations. Locus Solus in French. That last issue of Vermillion with the weird misprinted letters section. My private army of giant tuxedo-wearing lobsters. My auxiliary private army of giant lobster-wearing tuxedos. A bunch of shirts with the little alligator on the chest. A DVD copy of Genocyber purchased circa 2003. 

The other half of the dumptruck goes right on top of the Genocyber DVD

I’m supposed to eat it all, and then, um, well, and then have all these precious things become a Big Deal part of me I guess

But then it gets all fucked up

It’s something about that year 2003

How I wasn’t really eating breakfast that year or something

I’d rush out the door, no time for eating

Or I’d sleep in late, may as well roll it all over to lunch

And then lunch is unfairly burdened

Lunch and breakfast fight and fight and fight

Neither can get the advantage

We cut to a conspiracy of snacks plotting a takeover of the Whole Operation

Dinner’s there, but it’s a historically inaccurate portrayal, the uniform’s all wrong

A pitbull, presumably a psychic, transmits a precision schedule of pets and scratchies and walkies and dietary preferences via direct brainwave induction of my Mind Meats

Now the dumptruck becomes its own thing, has this robot form you can implement if you spend several months moving the parts into place

I’m reaching back into the pantry for a fresh dumptruck

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 105

MANDATORY RULE #21:

Breakfast is now no longer the most important meal of the day. It is now (actual)breakfast . . . but it’s a custom version of the word that only I know how to operate. The rest of you will have to settle for crappy (pseudo)breakfast.

Oh, it’ll look and taste and feel and smell just like (actual)breakfast . . . except, upon the eating, there will bloom within you the tiniest of acidic doubts about whether what you just ate was a real breakfast or not. 

Not a grandiose philosophical doubt that would permit you to attain glory by speaking about it to large crowds-just a piddly thing you’re too proud to admit is really eating you up inside. You’re bigger than that, right? Sure you are . . .

But it shall incrementally corrode you from the inside until you are nothing but a whisper of a husk of a set of costumes and gestures perfectly imitating the actual being you once were-so perfectly, that no one will ever notice. Even you will fail to notice over time. 

Meanwhile . . . heh, heh, heh . . . I’ve got (actual)breakfast all to myself.

And soon enough I’ve set my sights on lunch and dinner!

This I command!

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #255:

A NEW STUDY STRONGLY SUGGESTS THAT AMERICANS ARE INCREASINGLY MORE LIKELY TO SKIP LITERACY IN FAVOR OF YELLING NONSENSICAL STRINGS OF MISMATCHED SYLLABLES AT PEOPLE . . . THE BOX OFFICE SUCCESS OF THE BACKROOMS HAS SPARKED RUMORS OF A PROPOSED SEQUEL STARRING YOUTUBE’S OWN RICH EVANS FEATURING ORIGINAL SONGS BY TAY ZONDAY . . . TURNING NOW TO AMERICA’S NEWEST FOREVER WAR WITH IRAN, DONALD TRUMP’S SLEEPY EYED ATTEMPTS TO OUTNAP THE IRANIAN GOVERNMENT DURING CABINET MEETINGS HAS SEEMINGLY RESULTED IN THE U.S. PRESIDENT SPENDING MORE QUALITY TIME COMMUNING WITH THE HELLFIRE SHROUDED GHOST OF EPSTEIN IN A NIGHTMARISH GOLF RESORT-ESQUE TORTURESCAPE OF DEPRAVITY, DECEIT, AND AVARICE . . . HIRING WAS UP IN MAY, WHILE WAGES FOR THE AVERAGE WORKER CONTINUED TO STAGNATE AS PART OF A MULTIGENERATIONAL TRENDLINE. MEANWHILE, STOCKS ARE UP . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #105:

A reverse curfew.

THE CONSTANT.

Friends betray you.

Parents abandon you.

Marriages end.

Prayers go unanswered.

Beauty fades.

Pets die.

Time runs.

Climate Inferno burns ever hotter.

Jobs go extinct.

Money goes poof.

Armies break ranks and retreat.

Flags fray, colors running, not even good to use for toilet paper, or to blow your nose-scarcely worth burning when it gets right down to it.

Nations rise and fall.

Game Boy endures.

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #38:

A fan re-edit/re-mix/re-dub of the Star Wars movie/TV/gaming/animation franchise wherein the one major change is having Palpatine re-dubbed by Triumph the Insult Comic Dog.