fishpiss

Eucalyptic Side Show Fantasies by Missa Bowles

Eucalyptic Side Show Fantasies
by Missa Bowles
From Vol. 3 No. 1, 2004

“The end of the world is here. Where everything turns into itself.” Hugh Bykicle stood strenched at the end of her line as another when’s day norming cum stomping. “Spare a little change? Have a nice day. Spare a little change? Have a nice day. Spare a little change? Have a nice day. Spare a nice day? Have a little change.” It looked to be another dry day. A hundred breed of dogs were heard howling curses at an exhausted cloud of hair products, witch hovered half-hazardly over the bottle field. “If I could I wouldn’t even wade one extra moment. I’d wrap my eyes ‘round that cloud and send it rashing back down upon their heads.” Hugh rationalized while the ugly unison made its way to work-it always made its way to work.

‘They Drove’ by Hugh Bykicle
They drove by
in droves
they
did they
drove by Bykicle?

“The end of the word is here. Where everything turns into itself” sheep echoed and tried, for the life of them, to pry their dry eyes from Eve Ever who hung on across the street flashing a digitally remastered red sign that sang the Country hillbilly tune “Nothng s stronger than love when love s hopeless.” “Sloven beast!” hailed a strong hopeless soldier as he dropped dropped two half-pennies into of his own pockets. “And why don’t Hugh join the circus you shadey-sod?” he bellowed from where he stood. “Because YOU have already stolen the show.” Hugh reimbursed. That night, still still at the end of her line Hugh lay alonely as Ever under the earth’s ceiling where silence talks back, where time is killed only by time, where thoughts walk into each where, other everything ends before it happens. “Hugh” chimed the silence out of the black out of the blue. “Look at the skeyes.” So ashefixed to the stars she followed the order. “Now fall on your eyes,” continued silence, but Hugh had already fallen. “and look at the skeyes fall on your eyes.” Watching-Hugh hung and swung at the end of her line when the cosmetic cloud began to tire. So to Hugh’s the light, it receeded to drop two words “the ground.” But it came with a friend. It came with the skeye, shedding it downward like a fence of old wallpaper, revhealing as clear as day the blue-a new blue-a new hue-a new Hugh. “That was something,” she thought, “I’ve seen before.” When the cloud touched down, she opened her lids to see Eve Ever across the street sleeping still flashing his sign that sang a little louder “Nothng s stronger than love when love s hopeless.” “The end of the world is here.” Hugh Bikycle yellowed still strenched at the end of her line. “Where everything turns into itself.”