Tuesday, January 09, 2007

My new old fetish

The rumors have stopped. Something imminent is about to happen.

Al-Jean's crew is planning an armed takeover. Guy, fucked over as ever, his crew is trying to do an employee buyout. Donkey's crew is pooling their resources and going out with a big bang on the lotteries.

My crew? Looking at what if anything we'd buy at auction.

Still, why are they waiting? These cocksuckers are up to something.

Currently they are boring us to death. Meetings charts memos emails. The most important decision I make in a day is at the food machine. Spearmint or everfresh green.

It's only when the place is down do you realize what a beautiful old broad she is. The plant.

Machines of the industrial age itself. A Museum, really. One of those odd quirky ones you see as you drive, off some distance from the highway. That no one goes to. I saw the place as that.

I was going to make sure I had a part of that future. Secure, yet isolated. Telling tales to dropbys the odd time, of they way things used to be,

I went up to speak to Management.

I gave them some information.

In return, a confirmation and a promise and a position.

Things are rocky, they admit. They confirmed that changes are imminent not at liberty just yet to say. And the promise that they were doing their best to keep the patient breathing.

Big fucking deal.

I talked myself into a position. Leader, Economic Disaster Preparedness Team. On a closing down of the place. upon the cessation of pounding, I would be - will be - the last man out. I have the keys to the plant.

Post-cessation site manager.

I called them on The One Thing They Know to get the position,. They knew I knew. Plastic lives. Plastic is immortal. You cannot bury plastic in the back forty and expect it to die.

As the globe warms, the plastic will take over. It's in your blood. It will seap out of the toys and gadgets. People eyewhere will stiffen and harden, turn to statues, plastic, brittle, but still alive, alive but dying. Not sure of the details but there are studies.

As well, tonight, coincidentally, Proper Authorities will arrest most of Al-Jean's Crew as they attempt to enter the plant with firearms. If Proper Authorities don't fuck it up. Which they will.

Part of it in me is getting back at Al-Jean for whipping his dick out in my kitchen and ordering Shawnelle to suck it. So I can't take a joke. Fuck him over.

The other part - I just can't seem to let go of the plastic. It gets into you.

A big wedge has fallen on my head and split me in two. I gotta ask: if the plastic goes does the fucking go as well?

Toxicity is a fetish. Fer sure.