harglebargle

I want an ego, there i said it. I want an ego and a god complex. And I want tuberculosis just so i can give it to some proletariat housewife. Then im going to have sex with a bagel and name it the wanderer. Then me and the wanderer are going to go from downtown to downtown solving riddles in public forums and the downtowns people will quietly exclaim to each other, 'did you see that? Did you see what happened there? Him and the wanderer solved another riddle, we must tell other downtownsmen of his tales and fables lest he should arrive in other lands.'

i'll have a knapsack just to create batteries of children. I'll need them for storming warehouses. My ego is going to be huge, bigger than an apothecary's. When i say then word gum the entire world will go into a flashback involving me and a romantic liason that went poorly thus, necessitating my need (and the world's) to find and clitorily stimulate the god ego.

When i find a baby in a shopping bag i wont just throw it away, i'll give it to the ego so it becomes part of the greater me. Ill sometimes wonder if the ego was actually inside me all along. I'll be solving a riddle and the wanderer will be mesmerizing the crowd and for a brief moment, a flicker in time, a young boy in the audience will catch me in that moment where he sees a bit of doubt while i pensively glance into the pollution. He wont know what it is though. Then that boy will grow up and wonder what happened to the guy who solves riddles with a bagel. And he'll use the internets to track me down and he'll find me with the ego orb huddled in a corner of a darkened ally, gently rocking back and forth muttering the phrase, “paragraph four subsection a. actions receivable...”

and it happened that my god had no pants to hold the change so he quickly turned into lenny wilkins and coached the greatest basketball team of all time.

next week: sports