by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|Why does things have to be so hard? Seems to me, it is all a ghastly sponginess soaking up all the misery there is anywhere to behold. Get’s so a body becomes so poisoned, there ain’t nothin’ else to do but pass it on to everybody else before’s you pass on your own self.
Not like there’s lessons need learn’n. We can all spout off more than a few. The worst I ever heard of? Old Tom Henry. His art was spong’n off whatever fool he globbed onto until he done poisoned every moment they breathed air.
He were king of the mountain. It got to be an honor to be fleeced, hornswoggled and abandoned with nothing left of pride but a prayer. Pretty young maidens lay strewn in his path singing his praise, each one doing their best to out do the other on how they lost their virtue never to be found again. Rich men found theirselves plucked clean, become destitute true believers without the secret how it were done.
Tom Henry worked his way up the ladder. Politicians thinking they knew how to promise everything but the moon while harvesting favors and ill gotten gain under the table, realized sooner rather than later, they took the fall while this unknown went off with the spoils they’d sold their souls to earn.
So. Yur’ probly’ wondering how come you haven’t heard of this wonder if he conquered the world and all us minions. Here’s why. Seems enough suicides, madmen, conmen, despots and renowned evil doers of every stripe spoke of Tom Henry being their downfall whence they arrived in hell, the devil hisself’ became inner’ested in becoming a sparing partner.
When word of the offer reched’ the ears of Tom Henry by way of gossip, he was past being bored of less equal adversaries. He done welcomed the opportunity.
The two met in a clash of wills over Miss Merry Beth Seemore. Such a blonde innocent of buxom plunder would be a trophy worthy of capture by any. Why she had withstood such fortune was a wonder unknown. Whichever won her heart won the contest.
Besotted with the quest, neither knowed’ till too late, Merry Beth Seemore’s mind weren’t no more than a sponge it’s own self. She had no thought of her own. Sucking up whatever might be offered is what innocents do best.
Tom Henry and Satan could break the tie. They was to the point of no return, exhausted, sucked clean, made empty as what Merry Beth Seemore’s blond head appeared to remain and be. Whatever they did and tried went in one ear and out the other without wasting time between. Mary Beth Seemore were a human black hole adorned on the outside as tantalizing bait without the knowing.
She done sucked the reality and remembrance of Henry into that nothingness. The devil fled back to his own. Innocence reigns supreme. Mankind is without a clue as to the great debacle of the ages.