Father Flaherty the Franciscan friar feverishly and
forcefully feasts upon feculent faeces, forcing the fetid form past his
quaking lips. He looks to the sky as he prays to god the almighty, his cock
erect, his eyes piercing the clouds. Each bite he takes he becomes more
aroused, his cock swells ever larger and his heart beats faster. As he reaches
a crescendo his priestly bell-end begins to pulse and vomit and semen are
expelled from his body simultaneously in parallel lines which stretch to
infinity. The ritual of purification is complete.
Flaherty proceeds out of his cloister in a dream like state,
shit still smeared across his lips. He is filled with angst, and this very angst
takes form:
He beholds a man, his face is decaying, maggots fill his
eyes, his tongue must be about 20 inches long and is a deep glans mauve, indeed
it looks like a hideous contorted phallus. Flies eject from the mouth as He
(the urethral tongue) speaks a few words
“In the jungle the air is humid and hot, the trees
kaleidoscope in shades of greens and browns and yellows. The sound and cadences
of the river pulse in sine waves, like the crystal water itself. This jungle is
home to many creatures but here we are focused upon the times and destiny of
but one.
In the water is a carp, its face comical, its antenna
pulsing and searching for food and enemies. The carp moves downstream towards
its congregation, for this fish is a shepherd unto its flock, or indeed its
shoal. It wears a purple robe, finely crafted by the lobster craftsmen of the
shore, the finest tailors for two hundred parsecs.
It wields in its miniscule prehensile fin a sceptre
encrusted with a diamond as big as the carp’s head. This sceptre is a wand, and
a magical tool of the ancient carp messiah.
But lo’ a hawk drops from the sky like a dead fly and
consumes it”
“Now I see” replies Flaherty
