Vague Insanty 058

When is a duck no longer a duck? If you take the beak, and strip the feathers, and rub it down with beef flavoring, and then chop off the head and use it as a Christmas tree - is that still a duck?

I don't know where my psyche ends and the new guy begins. He's sitting there at the edge of my consciousness, using his mobile phone and his electronic file-o-fax to arrange business opportunities and negotiate the brutal, and highly profitable, mercenary execution of cute, factory-working slave children.

And so he smiles in his designer tie and pure gold cufflinks, and tries to convince me that certain countries and ideals and ideologies would be far better as burnt out cinders - for the good and profitable enjoyment of all.

And then there is a talking horse named Simon who damns me. Fire comes from his breath and he insists that I cross the River of Misery to face my ultimate judgment before The Jury of the Damned.

And, worst of all, my socks don't even match.