Glue

GLUE

It was quite obvious his parents had a sense of humor when they named him "McClacketty." To make matters worse, they adhered their suffix of "Glue" onto him just minutes after he was thrust upon their world. He was fated not to believe in fate. He would, in his early-later years, for it was more early than later, he would see vast monsters sweeping over our landscapes. Yet I still ask my dear friend, and myself what this all means? As words (also heard as such by McClacketty Glue) break down eventually as babbling rattles in the esophagus. 

"Death of the soul 'tis this lifestyle, surely." slurred McClacketty,  yet still finding a wave to safely surf along this desert party, among this one angry hippy, with whom one night, he, McClacketty, found himself. As the angry alpha-hippie, in futile attempts to further brainwash his girlfriend, standing vigilently as wingwoman, burrowed his eyes and digs into the very soul of McClakketty Glue.  

"It's not a mountain spring! It is runoff! There's a difference, you know!" is what the brainwasher angrily said. Yet McClacketty was absolutely prepared for such verbal warfare, for he had for years endured Kali blocking his every exit.  She had at-once sprung from Parvati's forhead and consumed terrible demons having semen for blood. Her tongue lolled and fangs-dripping said-blood held strict boundary over McClacketty, so that he should not escape. Yet he found just this exact escape in the warfare of language, spoken into existence.   

And so thusly armed with such volatile command, McClacketty fired first volley back upon the firey eyes of the bearded, angry, hipnotizing, hard-on hippie:  "Not that most hippies are bad, but when I said I would like to take a glass and drink out of a mountain spring, and you were quite obviously speaking of snow runoff, merely was I creating a parallel metaphor, using water as the base, data set."  At this, the hippie took pause, and reaching inward sadly cried, "For 'tis thou- doth which that hath said, such thusly so, that I myself am compelled to take journey upon the Western Shore." "Be it so, if you are thusly dammed." McClacketty returned.  Then taking full swig of his English, high alcohol beer, pandered off to sit by a girl. For it was this very feminine-fact, that angered the bearded hippie. His burrowing eyes were large enough to see that the girls' eyes somehow were large enough to see- McClacketty Glue nearly in his entirety.  Especially the deaf girl. And due to this fact, they gathered to him in a concentrated traffic jam of fate. A strange occurrence, truly was this rain upon the arid soil of his starving heart. Yet he never forgot how to ride a bicycle, so also he did not forget this wave, and how to surf its peculiar tilts.