Now now browned cattle, welcome to your training. Take off your
shoes and come on in. Leave a check or credit card and everything
you own at the front desk. Remember to be enlightened you must be
free of all material possessions, so please don't hesitate to turn
them all over to us. Now everyone lie down on the floor and relax.
Let all that tension inside you, slowly exit your body through your
fingers and your toes. Feel the energy flow out of them as though
your toes and fingers are hollow jets. Imagine yourself floating
in outer space. Your body cavity is completely hollow. You are in
an atmosphere of soft white clouds, completely surrounded by endless
balls of cotton. Now let that atmosphere slowly change to crushed
velvet and let that open into a room filled with champagne. Can
you feel the champagne bubbling up through your armpits and your
sinuses? Now imagine the entire room is filled with urine and now
- all is dry. The temperature is getting very very hot. You are
Iying in an electric oven impaled on a roasting pan. Two slits have
been cut in the sides of your body so the sizzling hot grease can
exit freely. The metal pan underneath you is as hot as a pancake
griddle. Feel your legs slowly begin to rise and swell like bread
dough. Your blood is beginning to boil and bubble up through your
body and out through the two slits cut in your sides, trickling
down your ribcage until each droplet meets the roasting pan with
a sharp hissing sound. The inside of your body has begun to solidify
until finally you are cooked all the way to the center. Now you
are Iying, piping hot inside on a cold china plate on a dining room
table. The atmosphere is tablecloth formal. Several candles flicker
up above you as hot gravy is slowly poured across your torso, running
down your neck and sides and into the open slits. A freshly baked
apple is wedged in your mouth slowly working its way between the
gums of your teeth. You are surrounded by wafting smoke from lit
cigarettes and several wine glasses filled with cold ice water.
Your grandmother's there. Your spoiled icky cousins are there.
All your aunts and uncles are all there, dressed in their Sunday
best. You guessed it, it's easter. Up above you hear a warm buzzing
sound. Metal is vibrating across your stomach, the slithering quivering
blade of the Hamilton Beach, electric knife slicing back and forth
down through your mid-section, back and forth, sawing away at your
backbone until it snaps. One by one, piece by piece, back and forth.
Your roasted, juice-filled body is trimmed and sliced away a large
two-pronged fork. Picks and gouges the last remaining gristle from
your ribcage - til only your leftover bones remain piled on a sticky
plate with soggy peas remnants of old potato. A warm breeze blows
through your leftovers from a nearby heating duct. You are scraped
off the plate with a greasy steak-knife - falling until you gently
land on a soft bed of wadded napkins and paper towels in the metal
garbage can outside. Loud reverberations of sound hammer at your
inner ear as the lid of the garbage can is slammed shut. The stink
of years of garbage is overwhelming. It is dark. You are all alone.
Waiting. Hoping the claws of stray dogs won't screach at the outside
of the garbage can like fingernails on a chalkboard. And the lid
on top of the can is weighted down well enough that you won't find
yourself, being french-kissed by a raccoons. It's a beautiful day
in the neighbourhood.
Jello Biafra / Alternative Tentacles:
Thanks to Jello Biafra.